


Back to Basics

by Radar1388



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Asexual, Asexual Character, Asexual Female Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mentions of Rape, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Season 2 Rewrite, Season 3 rewrite, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Swearing, character deaths that are mostly canon compliant, season 1 rewrite, touch issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 98,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar1388/pseuds/Radar1388
Summary: Is it possible to get a second chance at life? Layla had been with Rick's group since the prison. She was logical, brave, and soon became a highly influential member of the group. And she also fell in love, as did he. One day, one of her ever-detailed plans gets the group to safety, but not herself. Surrounded by too many walkers than even she can handle, she's killed. And then she wakes up at the start of the end of the world. For some reason, Layla's getting a second chance to relive the apocalypse.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 110





	1. No Pain, No Gain

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of an idea that I had started, but now realize it might not work. I deleted the story from the website, but have it saved on my computer should I choose to try again with it in the future. This story is, technically, its own idea, not a sequel or prequel to anything. Yet? Who knows. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
>  **Warnings that will follow throughout story:** PTSD, issues with touch, swearing, canon-typical violence, mentions of rape, some character deaths that will be mostly canon-typical.
> 
>  **Note:** Eventual romance between Daryl and my OC. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Everything happens for a reason. The universe has its own plan. The universe has its own sense of humor.

The universe can suck my metaphorical dick.

I think things through, I wouldn't be logical if I didn't. Everything had gone accordingly with the group…but not with me.

I pressed my back as far against the wall as I could. Even so, I still felt the occasional swipe of a walker nearly pulling my hair or tugging my clothes. They gnashed and yanked hungrily at the chain link for what felt like hours. They were getting so impatient that they started scraping their faces and bodies against the metal. I grimaced as rotting innards and teeth spilled at my feet.

Trying to block out everything – the groaning, snarling, nightmare-inducing situation – I gazed past them. My old, battered, but trusty backpack and longbow had been abandoned on the pavement. I'd had to. The pack was heavy with supplies and would've weighed me down, and the bow's string had been cut clean through. Next to those things was the handle of my knife, bloodstained and missing its blade after having been snapped off into a snarling skull.

I jumped when the metal of the gate groaned. The chain link was caving, the hinges were bending, and my corner I had been forced into was getting smaller and smaller.

Experimentally, I made a sharp chirping in the back of throat. It was a shrill, distinctive noise that I used to communicate over long distances with the group, specifically-

I groaned irately when the fence started smashing against my toes.

I made the chirping again, louder, but it was no good. More walkers kept on coming towards me, their hellish growls deafening out anything else and their lumbering bodies now blocking out the happy sun. Sweat trickled down my spine. But then, I sealed my mouth shut when I felt a chuckle bubble inside me.

I hated being backed into corners, hated feeling trapped. It made me feel helpless and out of control.

A walker surged forward, making some of the chain link slap my forehead. I snickered louder, glancing around at the walkers. How the hell could creepy undead monsters not scare me, but a simple human touch or closeness could? I barked out a full laugh...laughed again...and again and again.

I laughed and hollered until tears scathed my face. I had no reason to be scared. The group – _my_ group – was alive and safe because of my current position. My plan worked perfectly to get them out of harm's way, it just didn't work for me.

At some point, my laughter died into a sigh and I let my head fall back against the brick biting at my back. Ah well. You can only do so much planning and dodging until your luck runs out. And mine had.

My group was far away from the carnage, as planned. There were hundreds of walkers, all crushed together, pressing me against the wall. I had no means of escape, no way of scaling the wall, nothing on me to distract the walkers away, no weapons… And no one was coming for me because they thought I was right behind them.

I faintly realized I was still crying, probably outright sobbing, but I couldn't hear myself over the walkers, and a loud, shrill-

I stopped breathing. It couldn't have been…Shouldn't have been…

I stood on my tiptoes, as if getting a better view could help me hear it better.

This time, I heard the sob wrench from my throat. In the distance, every other minute or so, I could hear a sharp whistle, a single note that was searching for something, getting closer. Searching for me. I continued crying, this time tears of utter elated joy.

My emotions were my greatest enemy. I should've known better.

My wide smile bordered on painful as I opened my mouth and made the most ear-piercing, obnoxious chirping noise that I could. Hoping beyond all hope-

I should've known better.

As soon as the walkers heard the chirp, they got even more riled, bent and shoved the fence off its hinges. God…

Oh, god, did it hurt. But I didn't scream. I wouldn't give the universe the satisfaction.

As the walkers ripped my flesh from my bones, as they devoured every bit of me, I refused to make a noise, to even shut my eyes. I was desperate, desperate for one last glimpse of that crossbow, those striking blue eyes. But damn my logical self, because I knew I would never see him again, any of them.

I didn't know I was to be wrong about that.

Well, you know what they say. No pain, no gain.

The universe has a sick sense of humor. And sometimes you just got to say to the universe…

Fuck off and mind your own damn business.


	2. Back to the Beginning

Those birds that were singing louder than a soprano could also fuck off. Just let me be dead in peace.

With a pained groan, I pressed the heels of my hands to my face as sunlight tried to pierce between my eyelids. I expected nothingness when I died, a void. Apparently, the afterlife is sunny and cheery.

Rolling my eyes, I finally opened them. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in through the trees, I dug my elbows into the dirt to prop myself up.

Well…As far as the afterlife goes…Not bad, actually.

I inhaled the cozy scent of leaf litter and smoke as I gazed around. A small fire was burning around a ring of rocks, and someone's supplies sat a couple feet from it. A little campsite.

"What the hell," I muttered in shock. Slowly, not believing my eyes, I reached forward. I suppressed a yelp when my muscles stretched and twinged. I suppose they would. I did just get eaten alive, after all. Trying to move through the pain, I gripped the backpack and pulled it onto my lap to inspect.

The backpack had some fraying on the straps and a little dirt on the bottom. To most people, it looked like an old hiking pack that should've been thrown out ages ago.

"No way," I muttered a few times, turning the backpack this way and that. I was trying to find a name tag, markings, anything to indicate this belonged to someone else. Because it couldn't belong to me. My backpack was dilapidated, dyed a deep red from years worth of bloodstains, and was sitting abandoned on a slab of pavement with my longbow. Not here in the afterlife.

Despite how the backpack on my lap looked, to me it was practically brand new in comparison.

I scoffed and shook my head. "No way," I said one last time, tossing it aside. I didn't want to go through it in case it belonged to someone, but the noise of the contents rattling within was just so familiar.

I tried to reign in some self control, looking at anything but the backpack to try and distract myself. As I did so, my skin broke out into goose bumps and the hair on the back of neck prickled all at the same time.

The campsite, the surrounding woods, the backpack…it was all too familiar and absolutely ridiculous.

My aching body practically screamed at me as I abruptly tucked my legs to sit on my heels. Snatching the pack once more, I yanked the zipper to open the main compartment. My jaw dropped.

First aid supplies. iPod. Ear buds. Rags. Tuna fish cans. Fishing line. Handgun. Hunting knife. Slingshot. Matches.

The belongings I had when the world went to shit.

Maybe this was my life flashing before my eyes. But wasn't it supposed to flash quicker, like a slideshow? I looked up at the sky, scratching the back of my neck in contemplation.

I could almost feel the color drain from my face as I froze. Carefully, as if I would break myself, I lifted my right hand in front of my face. I watched as my hand started trembling along with the rest of my body.

I still had my right arm. I…I had to amputate it ages ago! How…What...?

Ignoring the aches in my body, I bolted to my feet and shook my head. Okay, it's the afterlife. Maybe you get your limb back when you die? I mean...I don't know?!

I flexed my fingers, chuckling lightly. "I've gotten so used to not having this," I said to no one in particular. I peered down at the backpack. After a shrug, I took out the slingshot with a grimace, and then the knife. Finding a couple small stones, I shoved them in my pocket, slung the pack over my shoulders, kicked dirt over the already dying fire, and started hiking.

I didn't know what any of this was. Call it life flashing before my eyes, a form of limbo, or a weirdly cryptic afterlife initiation process, I wasn't interested in just sitting and doing nothing. I just got my arm back and I was in the woods. I wanted to see if I could still use it to aim and shoot.

I walked to work out the kinks and aches of my body, but also because I knew of a small grove of thin trees that were perfect for a challenging target practice. I was impressed; this place was pretty much a carbon copy of some woodlands in Georgia. When I arrived at the trees I was looking for, I was finally feeling significantly better. I stopped to briefly stretch my arms above my head.

I took the knife and started to mark the bark. After doing so, I stalled, realizing what I was doing. Carving notches into trees was what I always did when I wanted to test new arrows for my bow. Blowing out a puff of air, I internally regrouped.

Using a tree to practice with a slingshot wasn't adequate unless I set up something more elaborate to visualize things better. Think. What did I used to do for slingshot target practice? "Ah," I exclaimed as I started taking out the tuna cans and fishing line.

After a few minutes, I had a couple cans strung up in the branches, varying distances and heights. I chuckled as I gripped the slingshot, loaded a stone, and pulled it back. "I haven't used this in years," I exhaled nostalgically.

The first couple shots only hit the edges of the cans, but it wasn't long until I was hitting as close to their centers as I could. Like riding a bike, I guess.

I rolled my shoulder and swung my arm from side to side, trying to get a feel for any weakness or pain, but it was as if I had never lost the arm in the first place. Who knew the afterlife offered upgrades.

Now just having fun, I picked up some rocks and twigs here and there, and took blasé shots. Kind of aiming for the centers, but not really caring, just making noise and watching the sunlight glint off the now-battered tins.

As per usual, the nice tomfoolery couldn't last as obnoxious growling made its way through the tree line. "Ugh," I huffed loudly as a walker lumbered into view. "I was having a peaceful time until you showed up." Reflexively, I aimed the slingshot.

As soon as it saw me, its limping sped up. I let the rock go, embedding it between the walker's eyes. It didn't even pierce the skull. It snarled and hobbled faster, almost tripping over itself. Throwing the slingshot aside, I ducked smoothly to avoid the walker and jog over to my backpack. Gripping the knife, I walked casually back to the walker, drove the knife into its skull, and watched it drop.

I glared at the slingshot. "You're the reason why I started using a bow." As soon as I said the word 'bow' aloud, my stomach twisted painfully.

Would I ever see him again? Would he end up where I am now? Or does everyone have their own afterlife, peaceful but doomed to never see anyone again?

Harsh tears clung to my eyes as I cut down the cans and put them and the slingshot away. Wiping the bloody knife on my jeans, I stared at the walker. Despite the sob that was lodged in my throat, I felt myself tilt my head curiously. Something was starting to bother me, and I wasn't able to ignore it, but what? It was tapping incessantly at the back of my mind.

And then it hit me!

I was staring. At a walker.

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Look, I get the afterlife has its own rules. Looking at past memories, growing new limbs like a Transformer…But walkers?! It made absolutely no sense. Walkers were undead creatures, shells of former people and loved ones. They couldn't exist in the afterlife. Could they? No, this couldn't be it. This couldn't be the afterlife. Couldn't…be…

Shaking my head rapidly, I ran. I guided myself swiftly through the woods. Surely I had imagined that walker. I had just died, why _wouldn't_ I still be thinking about walkers?! I was racing closer to my destination, a cliff that overlooked the whole city. Bursting out into the open, I slowed to a stop at its edge.

I had a full view of Atlanta, Georgia...And Atlanta was full of walkers.

Numbly, not sure just how or even what to process, I let my eyes slowly drift between my backpack and the city. I looked at all of this for so long, until the sun was setting. Somehow, someway, I was alive.

And I think I had been brought back to the beginning of the apocalypse.


	3. Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While I was saving this, my internet started to lose connection. I've checked the chapter over a few more times, but there might still be errors. If there are, I apologize.

_I relaxed my gritted teeth once I was under the shade of the trees. After taking a breath, I took out an arrow and held it in the same hand I was holding the grip. I let my arms swing to my sides, loosely holding the bow and arrow and letting them rest against the outside of my left thigh. I flinched when movement appeared in my peripheral. It was Daryl, and he didn't stop to look at me, just walked quietly past._

_We had been tasked by Rick to track wild pigs. The prison needed to start farming livestock, and Hershel said pigs can be domesticated. All they had at the moment was a small vegetable patch and a horse that Michonne was using. So, no livestock and not enough vegetables for the growing prison population._

_I had only been at the prison for two days, but they wanted me to go with Daryl, Sasha, and Glenn. Not only because I knew where a nearby gardening store was, but also because no one at the prison trusted me. I had to weasel that confession out of Rick, but I certainly wasn't offended. I wasn't easy to get along with, didn't like people to begin with, and I guess it showed. But they weren't the first group I met that didn't like me, and they weren't going to be the last as I didn't plan on staying long._

_For the time being, I'll play by their rules. Sasha and Glenn went to look for gardening and livestock supplies while Daryl asked me to do some tracking with him. It was just a non-subtle way of him telling me he had to babysit me for the day like a child, to see if I was trustworthy_

_I took a few long strides to catch up to Daryl, flexed my fingers around the bow's grip, and allowed my senses to tune in to my surroundings. The scent of leaves and mud, the chattering of crows and songbirds, and the occasional cobweb snaring my legs or arms became the world around me. Everything else had fallen away. I had to remind myself that I had someone with me. I just now noticed that Daryl kept glancing at me._

_"What," I asked._

_He shrugged, expression unreadable behind his dark fringe. "Didn't know you were this quiet," he said. "You had one hell of a smart mouth back at the prison."_

_I shrugged as well. "There's no need to say anything right now. You can't track something if you keep scaring it away by talking."_

_"Naw, that ain't it," he shook his head. "You haven't been as cagey since we left. This is the first time I seen you relax."_

_I scowled. "I told y'all, I don't play well with others. The sooner I leave the prison, the better…for you guys."_

_Daryl shook his head._

_"What," I asked again, a defensive bite in my voice._

_Daryl waved his arm dismissively. "Nothin'," was all he said, cutting our talk short. I was irritated, but fine by that. I wasn't one to hold a conversation either._

_I kept my eyes practically glued to the ground, looking for any signs of pigs. Every now and then I had to look over to make sure he and I were still keeping a semi-even pace with each other._

_I could tell Daryl was at ease out here, by the way he sometimes positioned his footfalls a certain way, tilted his head instantly but calmly at a small sound, or how he would turn in a different direction as if he had a mental map. He was completely at home in the woods, just like me._

_And there it was again!_

_I had felt a sliver of tranquility when Daryl and I had waited by the prison entrance for Glenn and Sasha to join us on the run. We had sat there by the vehicles in a companionable silence that I had never felt around a stranger before. And here we were again, side by side, moving through the woods peacefully and effortlessly quiet._

The crackling of the fire wasn't even enough to drown out the deafening silence of the Georgia woodlands. I've been alone for almost two weeks now. The last time I had been alone was before I met Rick's group, over three or four years ago. Er, well, I guess those years never even happened.

And that's why my pride was hurting like a bitch. I was tense, sad, and – dare I say it – lonely. These three things in combination were so foreign to me that I wanted to pull my hair out just to feel something else. I once embraced being alone. No one to be responsible for, no one to mess up a quiet day, no one to trigger my issues, but now…

With a tired growl, I stretched the string and connected it to the other end. Gripping the middle of the wood, I raised it and strummed the string. Finally satisfied with the tautness and overall handiwork, I set my new longbow against the trunk of a tree and set to work whittling the arrows. Making these things again helped me, not only for survival, but it was a stress reliever from the emptiness I felt. Though, I knew it was a temporary relief.

I plucked the beautiful feathers out of the cardinal I brought down with the slingshot. I preferred turkey feathers, but the more days I wasted tracking one, the more of a chance I had of running into walkers without a decent weapon. I had the handgun, but guns were noisy. Cardinal feathers would have to do for now. As I trimmed until I had the desired fletching shape, I thought about my next move.

Going off of the campsite I had awakened in, I believe I had woken up about two months in to the apocalypse. By now, I should've been heading aimlessly east like I originally did my first go-round of all this. I was supposed to do that two weeks ago, not long after waking up.

I was still in the same woodlands near Atlanta, pretty much pacing in circles.

On the one hand, I should be going east. Who was I to mess with time and events? On the other hand, Daryl had once told me that Rick's group originally started out in the mountains near Atlanta. He had talked about a quarry, and I knew of one that wasn't far from here.

My noisy brain kept stopping me from making a solid choice. It was urging me to go east, avoid people. At the same time, it was nagging at me to check in with the group, to ask if anyone needed help, ask if anyone needed me to go hunting or go on a run. Despite not being everyone's number one fan, with some people still being irked by my presence, I had earned my place in that group, whether I originally wanted to or not.

Everyone had either tolerated me, or completely trusted me over time. All except Rick. He and I could barely be called acquaintances, never fully seeing eye to eye and getting in our fair share of fights. Even so, Rick never doubted my ability to provide and keep everyone safe. Whenever something happened to him, Daryl and I would take over until he could, with Daryl following my lead most of the time.

From the beginning, Daryl and I had a mutual respect and understanding of each other. Seeing that, Rick often partnered us to leave the prison to go on runs or hunts. As weeks went on, we spent more and more time together. Until we figured out we actually _wanted_ to spend time together. I never expected to have feelings for anyone, let alone have those feelings reciprocated.

I had meant to stay with Rick's group for only a week or two. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into more than three years.

A pang bloomed in my chest. I grimaced harshly as I set the fletching down and got to work on making the actual arrows. For the first time in a long time, I could feel myself stamping down emotions that I haven't needed nor wanted to ignore. I missed everyone, grew attachments to people that I never intended to allow. Hell, I was even missing Rick's overdramatic and bratty tendencies.

More importantly, I missed Daryl. I missed our conversations, both silent and verbal. I missed having his hand in mine. I missed our long, peaceful hunting trips where no one bothered us. The pang in my chest had grown to full-on stabbing, and I just…

Nothing made sense, for fuck's sake!

Because what if they didn't exist? What if Rick, or Glenn, or Sasha, or the prison, or Alexandria, or…

…Daryl…

What if I had just woken up from a deep sleep and got caught up in an overly-detailed dream? It would make sense as to why I still had my right arm, why I hadn't been eaten alive.

I shook my head rapidly, trying to clear it in order to concentrate on setting camp up for the night. I worked briskly, with purpose, trying to bury myself in the tasks. I needed to make the fire smaller, less noticeable. I needed to push leaves together and call it a bed. I needed to string up the tuna cans.

Tomorrow I would head east. Where? No clue. I planned to let my feet take me wherever. After all, I had no place to go. Might as well just…go.

Yeah, no…I dreamt it all…That was logical.

When nightfall came, I finally lied down, and I did something that I hadn't done in years. My chest and throat ached with the harsh sorrow that tore from my body. Every hiccup, every cough jerked me like a demon trying to escape my body. Infuriatingly, my face remained dry.

I cried myself to sleep with no tears, feebly hoping that this sadness would go away with time.

_______

I awoke in the middle of night. At first I thought it was my head throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. But the throbbing sharpened, sounding more like clacking and clanging. The tuna cans!

I quickly rolled and propped myself up to face the direction of the disturbance. Squinting through the dark, I could see a figure thrashing on the ground. It sounded like the cans had been wrapped around its body, creating a ruckus I should probably put an end to.

As soon as I got to my feet I heard, "Son of a god damn…"

My eyes widened because, of course, walkers don't talk. Rolling my eyes with an exasperated huff, I took my time walking over to the intruder. Sure, I was lonely, but I was hypocritical in the fact that I still wanted nothing to do with people. Still, I couldn't ignore whoever it was, either.

I stood beside the guy. He was a man with a really thin buzz cut and wearing a filthy tank top. And he was still twisting and thrashing, but not really trying to get free. It seemed as though he was simply trying to get a good look at what he was caught in. That, or he was just slow.

"Walking comes naturally for the dead," I said, making him halt his movements. "But not for you apparently. How may I help your sorry ass?"

The man twisted to try and get a better look at me through the darkness. After a second, he chuckled. "I was just wonderin' what a cute piece of tail like you was doin' all on her lonesome," he said with a twisted smirk. He started kicking again, trying to loosen the line all wrapped around his legs. "Now, why don'tcha be a dear and help me get outta…" He started kicking wildly again, voice taking on a more frustrated edge. "The hell even is all this?"

"Security system," I replied simply. "Nice to know it works on both walkers _and_ dumbasses. And, yeah, sorry, but I've got no reason to help you. Watching you flop around like a dying fish is kind of hilarious."

The man had now started grabbing randomly at the cans and lines in an effort free himself. "Oh, just you wait 'til I get outta this, girl," he chuckled, obvious warning creeping into his voice.

"Spare me," I scoffed. "I've taken on bigger fish than you."

I thought he was grabbing and yanking on his bindings randomly, but I didn't see the knife until he deliberately brought into view. As soon as the cans fell to the ground, he lunged at me. I sidestepped with relative ease and tried to see which hand he held the knife in, only to be surprised to find that he pocketed it.

Even though he didn't have a weapon and could now grab me if he wanted to, I could tell that he had been joking when he made the lewd comment. He kept shooting glances at my campsite, which told me this probably wasn't about sex. As he paced in an arc, keeping me cutoff from my supplies, I relaxed my stance and raised a brow at him. Daring him.

He snickered and lunged again. I bent my knees slightly, preparing myself for impact. My back slammed against the earth, knocking the wind out of me through gritted teeth. Even though his hand clasped threateningly around my throat, I smirked up at him. For a split second he raised an eyebrow in confusion before immediately donning that twisted smirk again.

"Well, look at that, girl," he crooned. "You're over here, and your weapons are way over there." He pointed with his free hand at my stuff. "Wasn't too smart of you. Ain't anyone ever taught you stranger danger?"

I chuckled, the sound getting muffled around his hand. "No, but apparently you think you're intimidating enough to teach me." I raised my brow at him.

The man rolled his eyes, hand tightening. "Some mighty nice supplies you got, while we're on the subject. I might just wanna keep 'em. Now why don'tcha play nice and lie here while I take my pick." I suppressed a gag when I got a whiff of his breath as he got close to my ear. "Be a shame to cut you up over some useless junk." As he said this, I felt him take his knife out of hiding, pressing the flat of the blade against my stomach.

I chuckled, shook my head, looked him in the eye, and said, "Dumbass."

Curling myself slightly, I jabbed my knee upward against the knife. The weapon fell to the ground as his own hand was shoved sharply into his upper body. As soon as I heard his pained gasp, I twisted, kicked the side of his ribs, and watched him tumble right off of me.

I jumped to my feet, grinning at the fury growing in his glare. "I don't need a weapon to fight or kill, and I certainly won't waste ammo on you," I said. "Get out of my campsite, dumbass." He held his side as he slowly got to his feet. I tsked. "Need a bandaid? I got some to spare. Didn't you want my supplies," I mocked.

He wasn't laughing or smiling anymore. But I was, which pissed him off, to my amusement. He clearly hated my amusement because he moved again.

I had to give the guy credit. I expected him to try and hit blindly with anger. Instead, he made a jerky fake-out motion that I couldn't dodge. He threw me to the ground, knocking the wind out of me again. When I looked up, I saw him search the ground around the campsite, trying to find the knife he dropped. At some point, he almost tripped over my backpack. Realization seemed to hit him and he started tearing at the zippers.

Getting up, I ran for him. As soon as I got to him, I skidded to my knees, clutched his jeans at the ankles, and yanked his feet out from under him. He had been too distracted trying to paw at my belongings, so he landed on his side with a surprised yelp.

Gripping one of his arms and one of his legs, I yanked him until he was on his belly. I kept a tight grip on his limbs, keeping him in place as he spat out dirt and leaves.

I got close to his ear. "Get the fuck," I spelled it out for him. "out of my campsite."

The rustling of leaves beside me was such a soft sound, almost silent. But I definitely heard it. I snapped my gaze around, thinking Dumbass had reinforcements. My jaw dropped. My campsite, the woods, the man I was holding down, it all fell away.

The other man stood there, fierce blue eyes glinting off the firelight, boring into mine as he kept his crossbow aimed.

Aimed at me.


	4. Taking Aim

Tears stung at my eyes, and I tried desperately to blink them away. They weren't tears of joy. I had stopped breathing, kneeling stock still over the other man's body and not taking my eyes off of the man standing in front of me.

That crossbow had ended the lives of many walkers and people, but never – not once – had it ever been aimed at me. A now it was, by the very person I fell in love with.

He and I held a staring contest. After what felt like an eternity, he squinted slightly, almost imperceptible in the darkness. He scrutinized me, eyes roaming over me. Not in a lustful way, but analytically. He flexed his jaw for a second and then broke eye contact to look at my stuff that had been scattered around the campfire. He gave a short sigh and shook his head ever so slightly. I finally let out a shaky, relieved breath. He wasn't aiming to shoot or kill, just to give me a warning and to stop the situation.

He narrowed his eyes at me and shifted his arms as if he were readying to shoot. "Get off him," he warned in a low voice.

The man on the ground started shifting and jerking, or maybe he'd been moving around this entire time and I just hadn't noticed until now. He tried twisting to get a better look. "That you, Daryl," he asked with strain.

Daryl ignored him. "Ain't gonna tell you twice," he growled. Inside, my emotions were going haywire. I was overjoyed to see him, but not overjoyed at what was happening. Obviously, Daryl didn't know who I was, not that I expected him to. So, he didn't know that I don't roll over so easily.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Hell. No."

"Come on, man," the man on the ground said. "Just shoot her or somethin'. You see what this bitch is doin' to me?"

"Yeah, I do," Daryl scoffed. "And I got a wild guess who started it."

"Now hold up now," the man grunted. "Which one of us is pinned to the ground?"

Daryl ignored him. He twitched the crossbow, gesturing for me to get out of the way. "He ain't gonna do nothin' else," he said. His tone was sharp with annoyance, but I could tell he was sort of trying to be reassuring.

I ground my teeth together. I could feel the adrenaline from the fight finally wearing off. I looked down at the man still in my grasp, and then back up at Daryl. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to believe him, to trust him. But my emotions and instincts were tied tightly together, constantly clouding my perception of what was safe and what was dangerous.

It was my head that I always kept clear as day. I always thought things through, analyzed things carefully. Deviating from logic to rely on my instincts wasn't something I could ever afford to do. Especially right now.

This Daryl had a defensive tension that seemed to roll off him in waves. It was as if he thought the world was coming at him from all sides. Aside, from the shorter hair, the Daryl standing in front of me looked like Daryl and sounded like Daryl, but at the same time it just…wasn't him.

Glaring at nothing in particular, I glanced away. Letting go of the man, I stood up quickly so I could turn away, ignoring how Daryl held his crossbow tighter at my abruptness. Not caring to be subtle about my turmoil, I buried my face in my hands, letting my nails claw at my face. What the fuck was I even expecting out of a situation like this?

Shaking my head with a pained growl, I started gathering up my stuff and jamming into my backpack. I only vaguely listened to their conversation.

"Pick your ass off the ground," Daryl sighed in exasperation.

"You didn't see the hell that bitch put me through-"

"I don't give a damn," he snapped. "You ain't the victim, Merle."

"Yeah, well, neither is she."

I paused. Merle. Daryl's brother? That's who I'd been fighting?

I'd heard plenty of stories about Merle, from Daryl and from others. Everyone had considered him to be a jackass with practically no good things to say about him. Daryl considered him to be a jackass as well, but with a fondness only a sibling could have. No wonder Daryl took aim at me like that. He always valued family more than anything else.

And I wasn't his family. I bit my lip as I finally let a tear drip down my face.

I tuned them out completely and collected the last of my stuff, tucking my arrows and knife into my belt with everything else crammed into my backpack. I whipped my pack on and grabbed my longbow.

As I was placing the bow around my shoulders, Merle spoke up. "Now where do you think you're goin'? We was just gettin' acquainted."

I glared at the two men. "With me? Or with my stuff?"

Merle chuckled. "Call it heat of the moment," he said. "A little 'end of the world' desperation." Merle waltzed past me and made a show of warming his hands by the fire. All the while, Daryl watched us with interest. "Now I'm willin' to call it even, if you'll share this fire. Daryl there's got a rabbit that needs cooked."

"Jesus Christ," I seethed, rubbing my thumb and fingers over my eyes. "You know what," I huffed. "Do what you want. Set the woods on fire for all I care. I'm not…" I paused when my eyes inevitably found Daryl's again. He was staring at me again with that same intrigued and suspicious gaze. I shook my head slowly, sadly. "I'm not dealing with this."

I started walking away, until I felt a hand clasp my upper arm. My eyes slammed shut as my body locked up and my heartbeat skyrocketed. As I tried desperately to will air into my lungs, I felt my hands curling into fists. Forcing my eyes open, I gritted my teeth, and whirled around, ready to fight like hell.

As soon as I saw who had grabbed me, my reaction was instant. I immediately relaxed, oxygen filled me again, and I felt my jaw click when I released the tension. Daryl blinked, probably startled by the numerous emotions that had just warred over my face. Then, he dropped my arm and shook his head with a light scowl, as if he never saw anything.

"Don't you got people," Daryl asked.

I gestured at my campsite. "Does it look like I do?"

"It don't work no more," Merle hollered from where he sat at the campfire. "Bein' alone."

"Right," I nodded mockingly. "Because 'safety in numbers' and 'kumbaya' and shit." Merle just barked out a laugh as he took out a skinned squirrel to cook. "I'm not good with people. And I'm no stranger to being alone," I said.

"You ain't gotta be," Daryl said, crossing his arms. "We got a camp. A little higher up the mountain." He pointed to his brother. "We were on a huntin' trip. On our way back right now. It's about a day's walk."

"What the hell do you even want with me," I snapped. "I just beat the shit out of your brother. And you don't…" I couldn't help that my voice shook a little. "You don't even know me."

Daryl shook his head exasperatedly. "Fine, then. Go and get your dumb ass killed," he exclaimed, going to join his brother.

I smiled manically. "Splendid idea! I'll go get myself killed, while you two prance around the woods stealing from other people. Bet your group is gonna get a rude awakening one of these days."

"Woah, woah, woah," Merle said quickly, slowly standing up. My eyebrows scrunched. His tone was no longer condescending and jesting, but was now steady and low, accusing. "We said we had a camp. Didn't say nothin' about a group."

Son of a bitch.

I closed my eyes as I mentally scolded myself. When I heard their approaching footsteps, I opened my eyes. Merle and Daryl had left the fireside, with Merle now looming over me.

"How do you know about the group," Daryl asked from behind me. I tensed when I felt his crossbow being pressed threateningly against my upper back, but I didn't turn around to acknowledge it.

"And how do you know we plan on robbin' it," Merle asked, face inches from mine.

I flexed my jaw, searching my brain for a halfway decent response. "It's what you tried to do to me," I said, crossing my arms to seem as though I was making a point. "And you're the one who said being alone doesn't work. Makes sense that you'd have more people somewhere."

Merle shook his head with a wicked grin.

The crossbow pressed harder. "Try again," Daryl spat.

An exasperated snarl tore from my throat. "I'm sick and tired of that crossbow being aimed at me. God damn it, I'm over this, and I've only been alive for two weeks," I rambled, ignoring the 'what the hell' look on Merle's face.

With another snarl, I sidestepped so I could face the both of them. Looking them in the eyes I said, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And you don't have to have anything to do with me either." Merle and Daryl exchanged a dubious look as I continued. "I'm leaving, heading east. And you never have to deal with me again. Sound good?" _No, it doesn't_ , I thought, heart wrenching as I started to walk away again.

Once more, I felt a hand grip my upper arm. This time, my body didn't have such a dramatic reaction, because I knew who it was. "Try again," Daryl said, still on edge, but slightly less demanding for some reason.

I turned around with a raised eyebrow. Daryl still had his crossbow at the ready and Merle was in a defensive stance. They were still trying to appear threatening, but I mostly saw curiosity on their faces. And then I understood that they believed me when I said I wanted to leave, which was probably why they were showing less animosity.

I plastered on a smirk. "Very well." I cleared my throat dramatically. "I'm from the future."

"Pfft," Merle scoffed. "Sure you are. And I'm a pole-dancin' ballerina. Now how about you tell us somethin' real."

I shrugged. "It's true. I know about the quarry. I know about you two."

"So you been spyin' on us," Daryl accused, taking a step closer.

Merle shook his head at me. "I ain't buyin' this. Prove it."

I blinked. "And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?" Please, please, don't ask me to say anything personal.

Merle sneered. "You tell me. You're from the _future_ after all."

I scrubbed my hands down my face with a tired groan, and started spitting out random stuff. "I know about the quarry. I know that you two are hunters and trackers. Y'all end up going to the CDC. You end up getting handcuffed to roof-"

"Who does," Daryl demanded.

"Him," I pointed to Merle. Without missing a beat I continued the nonsense. "Carl ends up getting shot or something. You said some things about the farm-"

"God damn, woman," Daryl exclaimed, shaking his head in pity. "Anyone ever given you a brain scan?"

I grinned. "The voices in my head tell me I'm normal," I said with an exhausted snicker.

Merle was also shaking his head. "Bat shit crazy."

"You're right about the quarry," Daryl said with a frown. "And about us. But everything else…Never happened."

"It will," I said.

"Come on," Daryl rolled his eyes. "You've fought Merle. You really think anyone'd be able to take him down and handcuff him?"

I shrugged. "Well, I didn't need handcuffs. And you've told me about all the times he's been arrested, so…"

Merle scoffed again. He turned around and went back to sit by the fire. "From the future, my ass," he grumbled.

I exhaled. I could feel myself zoning out a little, getting lost in my own head. I was beyond physically and emotionally drained, beyond patience. My heart ached so horribly I thought it might rip me apart. Daryl kept looking at me like the stranger I was and I just couldn't handle it. I needed to get out of here, away from them.

I tried again to leave the campsite, while I still had a semblance of control over my emotions. But as soon as I heard familiar growling, my patience died. I took my knife out. Ignoring Daryl as he raised his crossbow at it, I strode past him, grabbed the walker by the shirt collar and drove my knife into its skull.

I wiped my knife on my jeans as Daryl stomped over to me. "Anyone ever tell you you're a crazy bitch," he snapped in my face. "You got bows and arrows. You coulda shot it from a distance."

I didn't care that my chuckle was shaky and probably bordered on deranged. "The voices in my head also tell me I'm crazy."

Daryl rolled his eyes, mouthing a few curse words.

"Yeah, you're crazy," Merle shrugged. He hadn't moved from his spot by the fire and was casually eating. "But I reckon you're our kinda crazy."

Daryl stared at him. "What does that even mean, Merle?"

"Just look at her," he said, gesturing to me with the stick that he had cooked the squirrel with. "She ain't afraid of nothin'. Not us, not walkers." He looked at his brother with a wry smirk. "Weren't you the one who asked her to come back with us?"

Daryl threw me a glance before glaring at Merle. "You can't be serious?"

"As serious as you believin' in a chupacabra," Merle retorted with a laugh. "We got dead people walkin' around, and now some chick tells us she's from the future. Not that I believe her, but shit, this whole world's gone crazy. I'd say she fits right in with it. Now, y'all are actin' like brats. Sit down, shut up, and eat somethin'."

Daryl grumbled a string of halfhearted curses and went to join his brother. I fidgeted with the bow around my shoulders. I didn't expect them to believe me, but I sure as shit didn't expect them to actually want me around. Merle seemed to be perfectly okay with my presence. And Daryl, while not exactly thrilled, I could tell was only kicking up a fuss for show. They both were genuinely okay with me being around.

I should be heading east.

I knew why I took my backpack off. I knew why I lied down in front of the fire.

The reason was looking at me as he got out the rabbit he'd shot. "You want a bite of this," Daryl offered.

I shook my head. "I ate a few hours ago. I'm going back to bed. You dumbasses owe me a couple hours of sleep."

"Best get those hours while you can," Merle chuckled. "We gettin' up bright and early if we wanna catch up to that herd of deer."

I groaned. "I knew Daryl was a morning person, but not you too."

"Right," Daryl grumbled, rolling his eyes. "'Cause you know all about us and shit."

"Shut up already and give us all some peace and quiet," Merle said with no real heat. "You got a name, girl?"

"It's Layla," I responded quietly.

"Well, Layla," Merle continued. "You ready to learn some trackin' and huntin'?"

I rolled my eyes. "I already know how to do all that."

"Oh, do you? Did my brother and I teach you that _in the future_ ," Merle sneered.

"No," I responded evenly. "I taught myself." I rolled off my side and onto my back to look up at the stars. After glancing one last time at the two men sitting around my campfire, I let my eyes close. "Merle," I mumbled. "If you try going through my stuff again, I'll force-feed you one of my arrows. And you know I'll do it." I heard Daryl snicker at my words, and a smile crept onto my face. As I relaxed, I said, "And I'm not gonna help you steal from your group."

Merle spoke up. "Wait 'til you meet 'em. Those people, bunch of pussies. They wouldn't last a day without us. Robbin' 'em just speeds up the inevitable. Quicker and more merciful that way."


	5. Grim

_Door slamming shut._

_Can't move._

_Can't get away._

_No control._

_Radio static. So loud it shakes the car._

_Doors locking. All I can hear are car doors locking._

_Can't get away._

_No control. No…control-_

I bolted upright, heart racing jaggedly and lungs straining. I quickly curled my legs to rest my forehead on my knees and tried to focus on the sounds around me. The songs of early morning birds were shrill and loud, but right now a welcomed distraction.

The same nightmare, almost every night, for so many years. It would never change, I could never dare to hope that it would get better. So, I dealt with it, waited for it to pass. Awaking from a nightmare always felt tedious to me, like an eternity was passing, but in reality it was only a few seconds before I could feel the fog clearing.

Knowing I wouldn't get back to sleep, I stretched my arms over my head, and stared up at the sky. The sun was just barely waking up, so it was still a bit dark out. After stretching, I looked over at the two men who had invaded my campsite. Daryl and Merle were still fast asleep, with Merle snoring like a diesel engine.

I snorted. Bright and early, my ass. However, Daryl was an early bird. And if Merle's internal clock was anything like Daryl's, then they'd both wake up in no time and be eager to hit the trails. I needed to find some breakfast while I still had the time.

Not trusting Merle, I took all my stuff with me. Which wasn't much, just my backpack and bow. Before leaving the campsite, I quietly took apart the security system. All the cans and fishing line were lying uselessly on the ground after Merle had gotten caught in it.

As I made my way through the woods, I kept an ear out for any small, skittering creatures, but kept my eyes down to search for any signs of the deer herd they mentioned last night. Mud had a tendency to make more visible imprints, but the ground this morning was dry and dusty.

I moved my focus to the tree branches, searching for any nibbled-on branches, and for squirrels. I enjoyed hunting squirrels. They were fast, small, and therefore hard to hit. It was a fun challenge and I liked how they tasted.

Smiling contentedly, I followed a squirrel as it hopped from branch to branch, from tree to tree. Finally, it decided to rest on a high branch of an apple tree to have its own breakfast. While it was distracted, I silently opened my backpack to take my slingshot out. Shooting it down with a bow and arrow would be easy for me, but it was also a risk with how high up the squirrel was. If I missed the shot, the arrow would get stuck up there. If I shot and hit it, the arrow could go through the squirrel and pin it to the tree. I wasn't a good tree climber, and I didn't feel like doing any climbing.

When I got out my slingshot, I sighed. During the fight with Merle, my stuff had been shoved around everywhere. When I was putting my stuff back in my backpack, it must've been too dark for me to see the damage. The slingshot had a split going from the handle and into one of the prongs. I wasn't as pissed off as I should've been. The slingshot was only useful to me prior to the apocalypse. It was great for taking down small game, but not for taking down walkers or bad people. I chucked the slingshot away and it disappeared into some undergrowth. I would've liked to have kept it a little longer.

During my first go-round of the apocalypse I held onto that slingshot for almost a year, alongside my bow and arrows. Not because it was useful all the time, but for the novelty of it. However, thanks to Merle, I now had to throw it away. Whatever. Shit happens, I guess.

I was about to take my bow off my shoulders, but stopped. The squirrel had disappeared, probably bolted after hearing me throw away the slingshot. I blew out a puff of air and shrugged slightly. At least it led me to an apple tree. As I plucked three apples, I glanced at the surroundings of the tree. Some of the fallen apples had large chunks taken out of them. After looking harder, I found hoof prints.

I arrived back at the campsite to find Merle and Daryl up and about.

"Morning," I greeted, tossing two apples for them to catch. "I would've had a squirrel, but somebody broke my slingshot." I glared at Merle.

Merle smirked. "You don't need no slingshot," he said around bites of the apple. "Probably could've just gone all caveman on it with your knife like you did with that walker."

I shook my head with a grin. "And scare all the deer away? I think your herd's nearby. There were tracks and apple cores all around that apple tree. I'm ready when you guys are."

"Thought you weren't a morning person," Daryl asked, tossing away his finished apple and straightening up after leaning against a tree.

"I'm not. I prefer nighttime, but Merle's snoring is loud enough to wake the dead."

Daryl grinned at his brother. "Hey, maybe that's why walkers exist. We'll just blame it all on Merle."

Merle threw his apple core at Daryl, which he quickly knocked away. "Nobody's blamin' me for nothin'," Merle glared at us as Daryl and I continued to snicker at him. "You gonna show us this tree or what," he said as he stomped at the fire, extinguishing the last of the meager embers. As we started on our way, Merle asked, "What happened to your death trap?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean the cans?" I jiggled my backpack. "In here."

"Didn't hear you put 'em away." Merle elbowed Daryl. "She's as quiet as you are, little brother."

"Well maybe if you shut that hole in front of your mouth, you wouldn't have that problem," Daryl responded smoothly.

"Naw," Merle laughed. "I got the voice of an angel. You'd miss it too much."

I stopped smiling at their brotherly argument, my mind going to grim places. I wasn't there for it, but I knew that Merle was to die eventually, and I also knew who would have to deliver the final blow. I glanced at them, debating on whether I should tell them anything. The problem was that I've already told them quite a bit, and they didn't believe a word of it. Why would they believe anything else?

I led them to the apple tree. After discerning that it was more than likely the herd they'd been following, we used that as a starting point and kept going.

"We left the group the day before yesterday," Daryl explained, fidgeting with the crossbow strap. "Found deer tracks within an hour or two. Found the herd, but they spook easily. Accidentally drove 'em down the mountain. Now we're tryin' to drive 'em back up."

I nodded. "If we shoot one, hopefully we'll be close enough to your group and it won't be that much of a drag to haul all that meat."

"That's the plan," Daryl nodded. "While we're at it, we can find you somethin' to make another slingshot out of."

I waved dismissively. "Nah, it's fine. It's only good for shooting small game. It's useless for bigger stuff like deer or walkers. That's why I made the bow and arrows. I'll be fine without the slingshot."

Merle scowled at me. "That's what guns are for."

Daryl sighed, tossing his brother an annoyed look. "The more guns you shoot, the more walkers show up."

Merle rolled his eyes. "So I'll shoot all of 'em walkers with my gun," he said haughtily, patting one of his pockets that had a clear outline of a revolver.

"Idiot," Daryl mumbled.

Our conversations tapered into silence as the day went on. There were times where we split up to search, but most of the time we stayed within each other's sights. We hadn't seen any deer yet, but we also hadn't seen any walkers. There wasn't much for a walker to do this high in the mountains, no excess corpses to feed on. Nature seemed to acknowledge that, as the birds were singing more often and small game was more abundant and more daring to come out of hiding.

It wasn't long before I had a rabbit in my pack and Daryl had a string of squirrels draped over his shoulder. Daryl and I had done all of the hunting, with Merle doing most of the tracking. At some point, Merle halted and brought a hand up, making us pause and look at him.

Merle made eye contact with us. He brought a finger to his lips and then pointed towards the next knoll. Crouching low, we peeked over the hill to find the herd. I crossed my arms. It wasn't a meadow or field where we could get a clear shot. We were, of course, deep in the woods. The deer were weaving and winding around the trees, snacking at fallen acorns, oblivious to our presence.

Daryl made a low whistling noise, getting Merle's attention. Daryl jutted his chin at the deer and tugged the crossbow strap. Merle nodded in response. Daryl scooted close to me to whisper in my ear. "I'm gonna-"

"Yeah, I know," I whispered back. I gripped my bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. "Just let me know if you need help." Daryl was an amazing hunter, but with the deer constantly plodding around those trees it wouldn't be so easy to get a clean shot. If he shot a non-vital part of the deer, having a backup shooter could be helpful.

Daryl readied his crossbow, but didn't aim yet. After several seconds, he huffed and turned to me. He tugged at his ear and pointed at the herd. I squinted my eyes in confusion before she trotted into view, a large doe with a notched ear. From where I was kneeling, I had a clearer angle than Daryl or Merle. I nodded at them.

The doe was definitely not a fawn, but she was young and rather inexperienced. Each member of the herd took turns glancing up for danger, but not the doe with the notched ear. She kept her head to the ground, eating the acorns, and not once looking up. I scowled slightly. I had no obstacles, but her head kept bobbing and moving as she ate.

I placed my arrow down and looked at the ground in front of me, searching. When I found a decent enough twig, I once again looked at the herd. What I wanted to do would take precision, and would only give me less than a three second window to shoot.

I crushed the twig in my hand.

The crackling noise made every deer stop dead and snap their heads up in attention. Including the doe.

In a practiced motion, I knocked the arrow, pulled it back, and let it fly. The doe collapsed to the ground as the rest of her herd scattered and disappeared.

I stood up and walked over to the doe. I had hit her just a little to the side of one of her eyes. Yanking my arrow out, I said, "Which one of us wants to start field dressing?"

Merle walked over with his knife and saw where my arrow hit. "You got one hell of a technique," he said after giving a low whistle. He started the process of gutting it.

"Ain't never seen anythin' like that before," Daryl agreed, coming over to stand next to me.

"She wouldn't stop moving," I said with a shrug. "So I found a way to make her stop."

Between my backpack and the two sacks Merle and Daryl had taken out of their pockets, we loaded up a decent amount of venison. They assured me that the camp wasn't too far.

"What'd you do," Daryl asked. "Before all this?"

"Don't you remember," Merle smirked. "Before this, she was from _the future_."

Daryl ignored him. "You know what I mean," he said to me.

I nodded. "I wasn't doing much," I explained. "I was homeless. I mainly stuck to the woods, camping out wherever I went. I had a dual sport, and I would ride into any nearby town to get food or supplies. Eventually, I ran out of money. No money, no gas. I pretty much stayed in the woods permanently at the point. I learned hunting and survival as I went. Then, when the dead started walking, I realized just a slingshot wasn't gonna cut it."

Daryl nodded at my backpack. "You got a gun."

"The hell do you have a gun for, anyway" Merle laughed at me. "You don't need it." He turned around to face us. Walking backwards, he held his hand out. "I could hold onto that gun for you. Seein' as you won't be needin' it."

I shook my head, smiling. "You'll shoot your eye out, kid."

Merle flipped me off and turned himself to walk forward again.

"That where you got all them scars? From bein' homeless," Daryl asked. "They look old."

I had small scars littering my body. There weren't that many and they weren't that big or horrendous, but they were noticeable in the right light. I had a few on my face and neck, but most of my scars were scattered on my legs and arms.

"I'm a homeless woman," I shrugged. "People have tried to mess with me."

Daryl blew out a puff of air and grinned. "Hate to see how they ended up. You got lucky, Merle," he exclaimed to his brother. Without looking back at us, Merle raised his fists up and flashed us both his middle fingers.

The top of an RV came into view. Trekking out of the woods and onto a gravel road, we got closer to the camp. From here, I could hear the buzzing of conversations, chores underway, and even children playing. I hung back a little, letting Daryl and Merle go ahead some.

I could feel my shoulders hunching and I had to force myself to straighten up. The more people I was near, the more apprehensive I would get. But I tried to relax as much as I could. That was Rick's group up ahead; I was bound to already know a lot of people there. I didn't have a reason to be defensive, and it would do me no good to approach everyone like a caged animal.

"Bet y'all are hungry," Merle hollered obnoxiously at the top of his lungs as we entered the camp.

A man with curly dark hair looked up and then sighed with annoyance. "Don't worry, y'all," he said to the group. "It's just the Dixon's."

I frowned, not recognizing the man who had spoken. I took a long look at the people around the camp. In fact, I think I only recognized two or three of them, but everyone else…

"Oh, man," I muttered solemnly. In that moment, I almost felt like a grim reaper.

I was observing people who were probably going to lose their lives along the way.


	6. The Naivety of People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, had some trouble with the WiFi. I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. Your kind words and constructive criticism are awesome!

I mentally cursed. There were well over a dozen people in this camp. And with how close everyone's tents were, they seemed pretty close-knit, to my chagrin.

Merle and Daryl had started unloading the meat on to a fold-up table. I set my backpack on the gravel and fumbled with the zippers. "God damn," I muttered at my shaking fingers.

I heard Daryl's light footsteps approach. "Y'alright?".

"Yeah," I sighed shortly. "I'm dealing with it."

"Dealing with what," he asked as I handed him the rest of the meat.

"Who's this," someone asked, making me look up. The man with the curly dark hair was walking towards me. As he did so, a couple group members perked their heads up to see what was going on.

After all of the venison had been laid out, Daryl came back over to me to watch the greeting.

I cleared my throat a little and stuck my hand out, incredibly relieved that it had stopped trembling. "My name's Layla."

The man shook my hand firmly. "Shane," he greeted.

My heart dropped into my stomach and I had to put an extreme amount of effort into not cringing. Oh, the stories I'd heard about Shane…And none of them were good. I couldn't help but glance around at the many eyes that were on us, waiting for something to happen. And I realized something truly disheartening.

"You're this camp's leader, I take it," I said, trying to sound casual.

Shane chuckled once, and dipped his head in a humble gesture that actually seemed genuine. "Somethin' like that," he said. "So, Layla, where'd you come from?"

"We found her in the woods," Daryl said. "Saw that she had no people, so we brought her back."

"I can see that," Shane muttered, scratching one of his eyes and not looking too happy. "Look, and this is no offense to you, Layla, but don't y'all remember? We talked about not bringin' in anymore people-"

"I'm not that social to begin with," I said. "I tend to keep to myself."

"Not the problem," Shane shook his head. "Aside from the fact that we got no place for you to sleep, you're also just another mouth to feed."

"So what'll you do," a woman with long hair sauntered over and asked him. "Tell her to leave? You'd be giving the poor girl a death sentence."

Merle laughed. " _Poor girl_ ," he mocked in a simpering voice as he diced up some meat. "Y'all should see her. She's practically a wild animal." He stopped to leer at me. "But if she needs a place to sleep, my tent's always open."

"So I can castrate you in your sleep," I glared at him. "Sounds like a plan."

Chuckles filled the camp, making Merle mutter, "Screw all y'all."

Shane was shaking his head, laughing under his breath as well. His smile slowly turned neutral as he deliberated. He pointed at me in a vague gesture. "You know how to use that bow," he asked.

I wasn't sure whether I was imagining the condescension or if it really was a legitimate question. Either way, I felt my eyes narrow. "You're eating tonight, aren't you?"

Shane glanced at the venison. After a long moment, he said, "It's great that you can hunt, but Daryl and Merle already got that covered. Umm, the ladies around here could always use an extra set of hands. It's 'cause of them that we got clean clothes and cooked meals-"

"With all due respect," I interrupted calmly. "I'm not above doing any of that. I can even do my own cleaning and cooking if you want." I glanced at the group, most of which were tending to their chores while observing us. "But it looks like those positions are filled. If you want me to be useful I could...keep watch at night, or…scout around the area looking for signs of walkers. And when I'm not doing any of those things, I can be a floater, help anyone that needs help. I'm a bit of a jack of all trades."

"She ain't afraid of walkers, Shane," Daryl added. "Saw her kill one. Didn't even need her bow. She just grabbed it and stabbed it." I grinned slightly, more than happy to have him back me up. Like I said, I don't mind doing chores, but the chores Shane mentioned often came with being social. Keeping watch or scouting didn't. However, hypocritical as it sounds, I also don't like ignoring people that need help, hence offering to be a floater.

Shane crossed his arms and flexed his jaw as he scrutinized me. In some ways, even if he didn't realize it, he was trying to be intimidating. So I stared right back. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. We've been needin' someone who actually wants to do night watches. Morales and Dale," he pointed to two men. "They got watch handled for tonight. So you can just hang out, take a breather."

"And I imagine you need it," the woman said, holding her hand out for me to shake. "You're probably exhausted. I'm Lori. If you ever need anything don't be afraid to ask me, or anyone for that matter."

I'd never met Lori and don't know much about her, other than being Carl and Judith's mother. It wasn't that anyone ever spoke ill of her, they just never talked about her much at all. Carl once told me, " _Mom and I used to be close, and then we just…weren't_." And that was all he ever said about her.

"Alright, y'all," Shane hollered to everyone as he sat down on a stump and started sharpening knives. "After we get some of this venison stewed it'll be time to eat, so stay nearby." Little by little, the group dispersed. Shane smiled as a young boy trotted up beside him. "'Specially you, troublemaker," he said, poking the child in the ribs.

As the boy asked Shane about the knives, I could see the innocence and childlike wonder on his face and in his eyes. Two intact eyes. Carl. It was great to see him so happy, oblivious to the harshness this world would soon throw at him. Huh…Carl, but no sign of Rick. Maybe he hadn't found the group yet.

I went over to the table and began skinning and gutting my rabbit as Daryl and Merle worked with the venison. I held my hand out in front of Daryl. When he raised his brow in confusion I pointed to the squirrels draped over his shoulder. He nodded once and handed them to me to butcher. A woman named Jacqui would occasionally stop by the table, grabbing a handful of the diced venison and slowly adding it to a pot boiling over the fire. Two sisters, Amy and Andrea, were constantly stirring and seasoning the stew.

"You're not…repulsed by all this," a familiar voice asked. A smile split my face as I looked up to see Glenn. He was staring down at the table as if he were about to vomit. Glenn, along with Tyreese, were the ones that had brought me to the prison. Glenn and I had saved each other's asses more times than I could count. We would end up becoming the equivalent to siblings.

I chuckled, ecstatic to see him and finding humor in his face turning pale. "If you don't like it, don't look at it," I remarked. "Besides, you're gonna be eating this tonight. Why be grossed out?"

"We're gonna be eating it cooked, not raw," he specified with a visible shiver. "I'm Glenn, by the way." He stuck out his hand politely. I grinned at him as I outstretched my bloodied hand. "Yeah, ew," he cringed, backing away. "Never mind."

I laughed as he walked away, practically dry-heaving.

One by one, people approached the table. They were either coming to take some meat to the pot or take the meat to store it. And some only approached to greet me. I was extremely grateful they didn't swarm all at once. They would introduce themselves, show kindness and politeness that was completely genuine, and then go back to whatever it is they were doing. Oh, how naïve formalities weren't to last much longer in this world.

Another one of the men came up to the table, smoking a cigarette and watching us work. I couldn't help but glare at him. Merle was smug and bordered on overconfidence. But the guy standing at the table held himself with blatant arrogance, and seemed completely oblivious to the people around him.

Daryl stared at him, glaring as well. "Finally gonna get your hands dirty, Ed? If not, you better hurry. That lawn chair's probably missin' your ass."

"Shut up, Dixon," Ed grumbled. "Naw, I was gonna take some spare meat off your hands. Keep it for later for my family."

"You? Sharin'? That's funny," Daryl mumbled. "Ain't up to you." He nodded to me. "It's Layla's kill. Gotta ask her."

Ed paused to take a drag from his cigarette, eyes and attention not really focused on anything in particular, as if he were bored or tipsy. He spared me a glance and chuckled. "Yeah, and I was born yesterday."

I smirked. "Hey, I only woke up two weeks ago, I know how you feel." Daryl and Merle snorted while Ed looked at us in confusion.

After shaking his head with mild irritation, Ed reached for a slab of meat. Taking hold of a meat fork, I stabbed the meat and dragged it away from him. "Hell no, Ed," I told him. "We're all hungry. You're gonna wait for dinner just like everyone else."

Ed placed his hands on the table, staring me right in the eyes. "You just got here, bitch. Just who the hell do you think you are?"

Daryl had stopped working. "If you don't get your hands off this table, I'll remove 'em for you."

I did a quick glance around the campsite, wondering if this guy being a douche could be blamed on alcohol. And what do you know? None to be found. How could someone look like so much of an asshole without having a single beer bottle nearby? Maybe he was just born like that? Maybe it's Maybelline?

When Merle dropped the steak knife to double over the table in a fit of raucous hysterics, I realized I had said that out loud. Daryl was pretty much doing the same thing, elbows on the table and face buried in his hands as his shoulders shook with laughter. Apparently, we had drawn attention to ourselves because the rest of the camp quickly filled with laughter as well.

Ed was not impressed. "You wanna repeat that," he said, voice low.

"Whoops, no filter that time," I responded with a shrug and an 'oh well' hand wave.

Ed straightened up and started to move to my side of the table. He didn't get very far as Shane cut him off, having been watching the whole thing. "Back off, Ed," he said in a voice that left absolutely no room for an argument.

Ed stared at Shane, fidgeting with the cigarette in his mouth, debating on whether he should try his luck. Without looking at me, he said, "You best watch yourself, missy." On that note, he flicked the cigarette onto the table and stomped away.

Shane scrubbed a hand down his face as he turned to look at me. "You oughta learn how to pick your battles."

"Yeah, make sure Ed gets that warnin'," Daryl said without missing a beat and swiping the cigarette away.

Shane ignored him, still looking at me. "I can see those scars you got," he said. "I get it, you're a fighter." He pointed in Ed's direction. "But that's a battle you won't win. Can't win against stupid."

I shook my head, getting back to skinning. "He'd be a challenge, but I've fought guys like him before. With the right leverage, they go down easily."

Shane blinked. "Okay, I meant 'fighter' as a metaphor. What'd you do before all this, anyway?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

Shane asked a few more questions as we continued our work, but I kept giving him evasive answers before he finally gave up, for now. I was okay sharing certain stuff with Merle and Daryl, mostly Daryl, because I knew they weren't that social with the group. It makes them less keen to share anything personal. I said 'certain' because Merle didn't mind sharing his voice with the world, and Daryl…The Daryl standing next to me was more talkative, and more defensive of everything. I don't know this Daryl.

However, he'd yet to give me a reason not to trust him, which is why I hung out with him and Merle for the next hour or two. After taking care of the venison, rabbit, and squirrels, we sat down by their tents, waiting on dinner. At some point, I thought I was overstaying my welcome with the two, especially when they started shooting the shit, talking about something crazy they'd done, with me silently listening. What they were talking about was funny, but I almost felt too much like a third wheel.

"Aw, come on," Merle said as I stood up. "Don't tell me that story was too vulgar for you."

"No," I said. "I just thought I'd take the time to…walk around, scope this place out. Might as well say 'hi' again to everyone while I'm at it."

"Why," Daryl scoffed. "You clearly don't like people."

"Yeah," Merle said, tapping the chair I'd been sitting on with his boot. "We just got done with a huntin' trip, and you've tuckered yourself out time travelin'. We get a free pass for the rest of the day. Might as well enjoy it."

They said a couple more stories and I laughed along with them. They tried coaxing me into sharing some of my own pre-apocalypse experiences, but I evaded doing so. I was a bit burnt out and was just content to listen without contribution.

Dinnertime finally came around. Merle turned in early for the night while Daryl and I went to grab some chow. Cafeteria style, we all took turns going up to the pot, taking our share, sitting around the fire, and watching the day fade to night.

"So we have a couple different meats here, right," Dale queried.

"Squirrel, rabbit, and venison," Shane nodded. "Hunted by the Dixon's…oh, and Layla. Cooked by the ladies. And we got plenty for tomorrow, too."

"Well, thank you all," Dale said with a smile. "It's marvelous."

"Man," Glenn said with a grimace. "I don't get how hunting and blood and guts doesn't totally gross you guys out."

Daryl scoffed from where he was sitting next to me, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes.

"We all know that Daryl and Merle are hunters," Dale said. "But we don't know anything about you, Layla. Tell us something about yourself," he said kindly.

I winced a little. "Uh, like what?"

"Anything," T-Dog responded. "Who taught you how to hunt? Your dad?"

I shook my head. "I taught myself."

"And that bow looks hand-carved," Dale pointed out. "Is that your handiwork?"

"Yes," I said simply, focusing on the empty bowl in my hands and trying to ignore the eyes on me.

I heard Shane sigh. "Look, Layla, you gotta give us somethin'."

I looked sharply at him. "Why? I haven't even been here for more than a few hours."

He nodded reasonably. "That's true, but we don't know anything about you." He gestured to everyone sitting around the fire. "Don't you think we all deserve to know who's sleepin' in our camp?"

I sat my bowl down beside me. I could see Daryl staring at me out the corner of my eye, but I didn't know why he was staring. I ignored that to regard Shane. He wasn't being overly demanding nor was he trying to force anything from me. He just sat there on the log, shoveling the last few bites off his plate, waiting for me to answer. Everything I had ever heard about Shane seemed contradictory in this moment.

"I understand where you're coming from," I said slowly. "But here's my perspective. I don't know any of you guys." Not completely a lie, but I highly doubted anyone would believe the truth. "I don't know who to put my trust in. If I choose to share anything with anyone, it'll be on my terms, not anyone else's. And if anyone's not comfortable with me, just let me know and I'll stay out of their way. Deal?"

The air wasn't tense, but Shane and I did hold another staring contest, simply trying to gauge each other. All the while, I was still very much aware that Daryl hadn't taken his eyes off me while I talked.

Lori, with a sleeping Carl clinging to her arm, was the first to speak up. "I think that's fair."

Everyone started nodding collectively, even Shane after a long moment.

I nodded a silent 'goodnight' to everyone, picked up my bowl, and started walking towards one of the cleaning buckets.

Glenn tried to intercept me. "Here, I've got dishes duty tonight. I can take that." He abruptly tapped my elbow, simply to get my attention.

I slammed my eyes shut, flung the bowl to the ground, and took rapid steps backwards. "Sorry," I ground out harshly. "I just…" I didn't open my eyes until I turned myself away from the group. As soon as I did, I started making my way to the edge of the campsite.

My ragged breathing was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the light footsteps following me.

"That's one way to make an impression."

I spun around to face Daryl. I sighed and shook my head a little. "I've never been good with people," I said simply.

"You ain't gotta explain it to me," he said. "I saw you. Practically jumpin' outa your skin the moment they started talkin' to you." He nodded in the direction of the woodlands just beyond the edge of the campsite. "Where're you goin'?"

"I don't have a place to sleep in the campsite. So I'll find someplace out there, and come back when I wake up."

Daryl paused for a second. "Got enough room in my tent."

I blinked. "You sure," I asked after a second. He had absolutely no idea what this meant to me. He had no idea just how much I missed him. Whether I know this Daryl or not, this wasn't an offer I could ever turn down.

He nodded. "Ain't no sense sleepin' out in the open when there's a tent."

I followed him back to his tent. Before opening the zipper, he turned to me. "Don't even think about castratin' me," he said, face serious, but with a hint of humor in his tone.

I grinned. "Nah, instead of castrating you, I would just steal your crossbow."

"Bullshit," he scoffed as we entered the tent. "You couldn't handle the draw weight."

I sat down and removed my stuff. "I can and I have. I've shot your crossbow many times. But lucky for you, I prefer my longbow, so rest easy."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Damn crazy," he muttered, lying down and shutting his eyes.

I chuckled. Using my backpack as a god-awful pillow, I stared up at the ceiling of the tent, listening to the group's chattering. After the noises had died down and everyone else went to sleep, I still stayed up. I tuned into the chorus of crickets and the frogs sounding from the quarry. I was so zoned out that I almost didn't hear him speak.

"Almost thought you disappeared."

I didn't shift to look at him, too relaxed. "What do you mean?"

"In your campsite," he explained. "When me and Merle woke up and you weren't there. Thought you skipped out on us."

I flexed my jaw. "And that would've been a bad thing? Both you guys think I'm crazy."

"Mhm," he muttered. "But Merle's right…for once. Crazy is the only thing that makes sense anymore. And if you're the craziest thing in this world, well…I don't know." He didn't say anything for a while after that. When he did speak again, his tone changed to something mildly irate. "And Merle was right about somethin' else. These people are pussies, and I know you see it. I'm gonna try and convince Merle not to waste his time with this group." He paused. "You should…come with us."

I snorted lightly. "Yeah, I'll go with you just so Merle can have another go at my stuff."

"He's alright with you now, I know you see that, too. Me and my brother don't get along with people, neither. You're the first person in a damn long time that we don't hate." Another pause. "And for some reason, even though we're assholes, you don't hate us."

"It helps that I'm also a bit of an asshole." I pursed my lips. "If…it comes down to it…Yeah…I'll go with you guys."

"You don't gotta," he said quickly. "Ain't forcin' you or nothin'."

I shrugged. "Where else am I gonna go."

He hummed an 'I don't know', the humor back in his voice. "What'd you do the first time you went through all this?"

"I did nothing," I said, closing my eyes and turning on my side to face away from him. "And then I found a prison." And that was all I said before falling asleep.


	7. Coexist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * **Warning** : Mentions of eating raw meat in this chapter. I do not encourage anyone to eat raw meat. Also, Merle being racist.

I awoke to the sounds of a snappy conversation. Somewhere in the camp, two people were arguing. Although, they sounded fairly quiet. I stared up at the ceiling of Daryl's tent with a glare. Being an incredibly light sleeper meant that I was able to keep an ear out for walkers, wildlife, and even quarreling couples.

I resisted the urge to drown them out by listening to my iPod. It didn't sound like anyone else was awake aside from me and them. If a walker heard their bickering and ambled in, I'd probably be the first one to hear it. It's just as well; the battery on the iPod was getting low.

Then, it slowly turned into full-on yelling, shouting things at each other that I couldn't quite make out. Just as soon as they got loud, they got quiet, if you don't count a tent zipper screeching and boots stomping off to another part of the camp.

"Well, that was dramatic," I whispered to myself, blowing out a puff of air.

I turned my head when I heard Daryl growl. He was raking his hands over his face. "Almost every damn day," he grumbled. He let his hands fall to his sides and stared up at the ceiling. "Can't wait 'til we get outa this shithole, then we won't have to listen those jackasses argue anymore."

"Couldn't tell what they were even arguing about. They were trying to be quiet about it, as if they already know how much they fight."

"It's family shit," he grunted. "Lori lost her husband, now Shane's tryin' to get in on it. And neither can make up their damn minds about anything."

My eyebrows furrowed. " _Lost_ her husband?"

Daryl nodded. "Man named Rick. Dead from a coma or bullet or something."

Ah. I thought he meant separated from the group. "He's not dead," I said, shaking my head and sitting up. I took my bow and put it around my shoulders. "He's still alive…somewhere. I guess he just hasn't gotten here yet."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Tell that to his wife, then." He also started to get up, and took a swig from a canteen.

"Yep," I nodded stoically. "I'll tell her, 'Hey, just so you know, your husband's alive…but I don't know where he is.' And then having to explain things further…" I snorted. "I mean, come on."

"You got no problem tellin' me stuff."

I looked away. "That's…different."

"How," he asked.

"That doesn't really matter, considering I know you, but you don't even know me."

"So you say," Daryl grunted, gripping his crossbow and following me out of the tent.

Everyone was just beginning to exit their tents. Most people were pretty quiet, probably still reeling from the awkwardness of having to listen to Lori and Shane's spat. Merle was up, too, sitting on his chair and cleaning his revolver.

When he saw us come out of Daryl's tent, he smirked and whistled. "You won't take me up on my offer, so you settle for my brother? You wound me, Layla." Daryl and I rolled our eyes. "So how was it," Merle snickered. "Didn't hear no moanin' and groanin'-"

"Jesus, Merle, shut up," Daryl snarled.

I slumped into a chair and buried my face in my hands. "It is way too early to be dealing with your obnoxious ass."

Daryl huffed. "Yeah, well, you ain't the one who's gotta have a whole argument with him." He slung his crossbow over his shoulder. "Let's take a walk, Merle. We got shit to talk about."

Merle muttered something sarcastic under his breath as he put the revolver back together. As he started following Daryl into the woods, he turned his head to smirk at me. "Now you play nice with the other kids. Don't do nothin' I wouldn't do!"

I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, watching as they disappeared.

I glanced around at the other members of the camp as they started setting up breakfast for one another. I shook my head slightly at how many people were gathering, and went to open Daryl's tent again. I stopped myself. The instinct to get my stuff before heading out was a strong one.

I bit my lip, opened the tent, grabbed just my knife, and closed the zipper. I wanted to at least try to get comfortable here, which was definitely more easier said than done.

Going into the woods, in a direction away from Daryl, Merle, and the camp, I set off to find breakfast of my own.

I passed by a few raspberry bushes, keeping my eyes to the trees for squirrels. Some say you shouldn't be picky about food during times of crisis. When it came to protein, I wasn't picky at all. Veggies and fruits on the other hand…It's a wonder I hadn't starved to death by this point. But if I remembered, I'd be sure to bring some berries back to the camp.

I spotted a squirrel that was preoccupied with grooming the morning dew off its fur. An easy target, it fell to the ground when I shot it. When I removed the arrow from its body, the arrow splintered.

I hummed as I inspected the remaining arrows tucked in my belt. Only three left.

I laid the squirrel on a rock and used my knife to cut down its abdomen. As I did so, I inspected it for any signs of malnutrition, parasites, diseases, or anything just plain odd. Seeing nothing abnormal, I plucked a couple organs straight from its body and ate them. I didn't make a habit of eating raw meat, but I wasn't quite ready to head back to camp yet and I didn't want to waste energy making a fire. Daryl didn't teach me hunting, but he had taught me which meats could be eaten raw in a dire situation.

I did the same routine to a few more squirrels until my belly didn't feel as empty. Having eaten, it was now time to make more ammo. I had been lucky during my squirrel hunt to have scared a small flock of birds. Some of their feathers loosed during their panic and I collected them for fletching. I whittled down a few branches, trimmed the feathers, and started target practice.

I used my knife to mark targets on trees, leaves, and logs. I adjusted the arrow shafts and fletching as I went. When I got the desired flight from each one, I decided to have a little fun and do some trick shots. I made the arrows curve through the air, let them bounce off objects, utilized the breeze to change flight patterns. I was having a grand ol' time.

At some point, I put in arrow between my teeth, and tucked my right arm behind my back. Using my other hand, I tilted the bow at a weird angle. Bringing the string up to my mouth, I nocked the arrow, and aimed at one of the squirrel carcasses. I opened my mouth, letting the arrow fly and hit the little creature's body.

I jumped sharply at the sound of an applause. Shane came into view. After he stopped clapping, he went over to the squirrel, removed the arrow, and walked over to me. I raised a brow at him.

"That…was different," Shane exhaled, handing me the arrow. "Kinda hot, actually."

I grinned and rolled my eyes. "Anyone can do stuff like that. Archery's not that hard once you put your mind to it."

"Was for me," he said, leaning against a tree. "It's why I stick to guns." Suddenly, he paused and squinted at me. "That blood on your mouth?"

I licked the corner of my mouth. "Guess so."

"How'd you get blood on your face?"

I waved a hand at the dead bodies. "I take it you've never eaten raw squirrel before."

Shane shook his head with a grin. "Merle's right. You are a wild animal." He took out a rag. "Here."

"Nah," I shrugged, wiping the back of my hand across my face. "No need to waste a clean rag."

"Alright," he sighed. "Just don't come back looking like that. You'll scare the daylights outa everyone."

I glanced in the direction of the camp, eyebrows scrunching. "What're you doing out here anyway? Thought you had a camp to run. Or did Lori scare you off?"

He frowned, crossing his arms. "We were tryin' to keep everyone from hearin' it this time."

"You didn't succeed."

He paused to stare off into the distance. "Carl bunked in Dale's RV last night. You think he heard any of that?"

"More than likely," I replied bluntly.

"Shit," he grumbled. He slumped to the ground, burying his face in his hands. Figuring he wasn't going to say much else for a while, I went around collecting the last of my arrows.

I heard Shane chuckle. "Y'know, when someone's havin' an emotional crisis, people normally offer a shoulder."

"I must've skipped Empathy class in school. I have no tact when it comes to things like that."

"You can't at least try?"

I snorted lightly and stood next to him. "I'm not gonna force myself to be the benefit of others."

He made an 'I suppose' face and continued to stare at nothing. Eventually, he scoffed lightly and said, "Whatever Carl thinks of me now…Not like it matters anymore, anyway. Pretty certain this morning was the end of things."

"Look, I've only ever been in one relationship, so I'm no expert, but-"

"Naw," he said with a grin. "I bet you had guys fallin' at your feet all the time."

"With all these nasty scars?" I retorted lightly. "Anyway, if you give it a chance, you might be able to patch things up with her. Nobody said relationships were easy." Although, admittedly, once Rick arrives it's gonna add a whole new element of fun. From what Carl had told me, Rick and Lori had gotten back together when they reunited, inevitably making Shane stew in his jealousy.

"Don't know if I wanna patch things up," he breathed. He stood up and looked me closely in the eyes. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Like I said, the way you handle that bow…pretty hot."

Ah…

He wasn't joking around when he'd first said that…

He's actually been flirting with me…

I really did have no tact.

Despite the fact that he wasn't being particularly threatening, I involuntarily tightened my grip on my bow and took a step back. "I'm not interested," I told Shane firmly, keeping my face neutral. "Go patch things up with Lori."

I turned and strode away from him to put professional distance between us, and to do some scouting. I did a large sweep, circling the outer perimeter of the camp, searching for the scuffed footprints of walkers. Not finding anything too outstanding, I circled back to pluck some of those raspberries. Upon returning, and after quickly wiping away any excess blood from my face, I looked around until I spotted Andrea, who was in the middle of doing dishes.

"You're one of ladies who does the cooking, right," I asked her.

"Sort of," Andrea said with a shrug. "Carol's the one who thinks up the recipes. We all just follow them."

I blinked. "Carol?"

"Yeah, she's over there by the clotheslines."

I followed where she was pointing, and sure enough, there was Carol, hanging up laundry and going about her business. How had I not seen her until now? My jaw tensed.

"-ask her for some."

I shook my head and tried to focus on what Andrea just said. "What?"

She nodded to Carol. "You should ask her for some clean clothes. Because, no offense…" She looked me up and down with a grimace. "You could really use some."

"Andrea!" Amy scolded from several feet away.

Andrea half-heartedly raised her hands up in defense before getting back to her task. I looked at the raspberries cupped in my hand. Blowing out a puff of air, I strode over to Carol. As soon as I got to her, I was caught off guard.

She greeted me with a shy smile that I'd never seen on her before. Kind, with no hint of deceit or deviousness.

"You must be Layla," Carol said, sticking out her hand over the clothesline. I hesitantly shook it. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say 'hi' yesterday. Me and my family kind of stick to our own little corner." She pointed at a campsite a couple feet away from the main circle of tents. With the way everyone had been gathered around at dinner, it made sense that I hadn't seen her last night.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "It's fine. I'm not a people person anyway." I showed her the berries. "Think you can do anything with these? I know – uh, I've been told you're the food mastermind around here."

Her chin dipped down shyly. "Well, it's just resourcefulness. Me and Ed weren't always well off, so I made do with whatever was on hand."

I kept my face stoic. "Ed…Is he your husband?"

Carol nodded. "And the little girl is my daughter, Sophia." A cringe flashed before her face went neutral again. "You…haven't really made a good impression with my husband."

"You can't be selfish when you're surrounded by this many people."

She shook her head slowly. "Layla, just ignore him," she said, voice getting quiet. "If you give him a fight, he won't back down."

"I don't want a fight," I said with a smirk. "But neither will I."

"You won't win that fight," she said, pained. She pocketed the raspberries. "I'm going to give these to Sophia and the other kids. They'll love 'em. Thank you."

I nodded curtly. And then remembered something. "I don't suppose you have any spare clothes I could use?"

She smiled, nodded, and handed me some folded laundry. "I'll take your dirty clothes after you change."

"That's fine," I grimaced, tugging at my shirt collar. "These clothes are getting disgusting. I don't think a washing can save them at this point."

"Nonsense," she chuckled. "Bring 'em back to me. I know how to get blood stains and odors out."

I raised a brow. "That bad, huh?"

She smirked slightly. "Only…a little."

I chuckled as I turned away from her to go and find Glenn. I only then just realized that I'd been waiting for that hint of snark from her. A meek Carol was not a realistic Carol, despite my opinions towards her.

Even though Rick and I had our difference in opinion and attitude, we still worked as a team when it came down to it. However, Carol and I were never able to get to that point.

I knew Carol had a rough past, but I never discussed anything with her. Daryl once told me, in confidence, that Carol had been in an abusive relationship, and she had a daughter named Sophia that had gotten separated from them. He had told me quite a bit about Carol. Not in a romantic light, but simply that he could trust me with information on someone he cared so much about. I never took that trust lightly. Even though I despised Carol, Daryl didn't. Therefore, despite my resentment, I always made sure to have Carol's back.

Just like how I was currently making an effort to at least coexist with Merle. To coexist with the group as a whole. I thought, this being the beginning of Rick's group, that I would know almost everyone. It startled me when I found I only knew a few people here. I always struggled with social situations. Having to learn new people made things more difficult.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts as I approached Glenn and T-Dog. "Morning," I greeted.

T-Dog nodded with a friendly smile. "Actually, it's probably bordering on noon now."

I glanced up at the sun. "Seems to be. Guess I lost track of time."

"Haven't seen you or the Dixon's all morning," he said. "But that's normal for the Dixon's, leaving without telling."

"Looks like that's your style, too," Glenn said.

"Well, as you can tell by last night, I'm not much of a people person," I said bluntly. "I wanted to apologize to you."

Glenn blinked and tilted his head. "For what?"

"For the way I reacted around the fire. I kinda lost it for a second."

Glenn smiled and shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"It is for me," I said, scowling at the ground.

"How long you been on your own," T-Dog asked.

I looked at him, debating on just how to answer. I couldn't exactly tell anyone I was from the future without losing credibility – how I didn't lose that with the Dixon's was beyond me – so, for now, with everyone else, I would have to treat things as if it were my first go-round.

"A couple years now," I responded.

Their jaws dropped a little.

"The dead only started walking a couple months ago," Glenn said in confusion.

"I do a lot of travelling," I replied vaguely.

We talked back and forth for a few more minutes, mostly them trying to get more answers out of me, to which I evaded. I was never ashamed of being homeless, but it tended to open up a whole new can of worms when it came to the direction of conversation. Most people would not want to hear about the gory and disturbing things I had to endure during my homelessness. I wanted to gain these people's trust, not disgust them. They'd hear my stories eventually, just not today.

Suddenly, a heavy southern accent crashed into the conversation. "Alright, y'all! Who's ready to go on another run?"

T-Dog and Glenn groaned irately.

"Shane hasn't told us anything about a run," T-Dog remarked.

"Just got done talkin' to him," Merle explained. "He said we're leavin' in a few hours to go get meds." He stuck his lip out in a pout. "You don't believe me?"

T-Dog hissed something under his breath.

"Dude," Glenn scolded T-Dog, lightly swatting his upper arm.

"No, what'd he say," Merle asked, smile leaving his face as he took a step forward. "Come on. Speak your mind, _homie_."

T-Dog looked at him sharply. "No," he said firmly. "I don't believe you."

Merle shook his head, as if in pity. "Well that's a damn shame, seein' as I'm there to be your muscle. When it comes to them walkers, I'm'a be callin' the shots."

T-Dog scoffed. "Man, if you think anyone would intentionally give you a leadership position…"

Glenn glanced rapidly between the two men. "Guys-"

Being the jackass Merle was, he didn't even bother to look at Glenn when he spoke. "Now you zip your lip, chink, and let the men talk."

I stiffened as I narrowed my eyes at him. "You wanna repeat that, Merle," I demanded at the same time T-Dog said, "The hell'd you just say to him?!"

As soon as T-Dog stepped forward angrily, Merle stomped forward as well, more than ready to close the gap. I tossed my bow and clean laundry into the dirt. I wasn't strong by any stretch of the definition, but I smoothly stepped in between them and shoved at Merle anyway.

I only succeeded in getting him to stop in his tracks. "Get outa my way, girl," he growled dangerously at me. He grabbed my upper arm.

I stepped closer, glaring unyieldingly at his face. "You yank me away, and it'll be the last thing you ever do," I hissed through clenched teeth. "You want a repeat of what happened in the woods? Go ahead and try it."

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he let my arm go with a shove that should've knocked me over.

Shane and Daryl were jogging over to the scene. "What the hell's going on here," Shane exclaimed.

I could feel Daryl's eyes on us as he circled the confrontation. I could even hear the metallic shifting of him fidgeting with his crossbow. Merle and I ignored Shane and Daryl, silently daring the other to blink.

"You been standin' here the whole damn time," Merle barked at me. He jabbed a finger at T-Dog. "You heard him disrespect me!"

I sneered. "And I wonder how many times you've disrespected him." Merle scoffed as if it was all joke to him. My voice dropped. "You ever insult or fuck with anyone again, by the time I'm finished with you, the walkers won't even bother. I know I wouldn't." As I spoke, Merle's hands curled into fists. I flexed my jaw. "You told me it doesn't work, not having people. Well this is how you fucking lose people."

I crossed my arms, and after several long seconds I said, "You gonna walk away anytime soon?"

Merle spat at the ground, still maintaining eye contact with me. "Bitch," he grumbled as he finally turned around.

"Dumbass," I said to his back. I looked at Daryl, who was staring at me with an unreadable expression. "He was being a jackass," I said simply.

After deliberating over something, he hummed, nodded, and put his crossbow back over his shoulder. There was a sharp clattering as Merle kicked over one of the cooking pots. I sighed. "I should follow him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Naw, he's my brother. I'll go," Daryl mumbled. Without another word, he went to catch up with him. I bent down to collect the stuff I'd dropped.

Shane looked us over. "Anybody wanna tell me what the hell just happened," he demanded.

"It's like Layla said," T-Dog grumbled. "Merle being a jackass."

"How'd it start," Shane asked.

"Merle said we're going on a run in a few hours," Glenn said. "We didn't believe him." Shane raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, why would we," Glenn retorted.

T-Dog, Merle, and Shane started to bicker, and I walked away. I brushed the dirt away from the clothes and slipped into Daryl's tent. Shrugging out of my old clothes, I put the new ones on. By the time I was finished and had exited the tent, Daryl was sitting right outside dicing up some leftover venison.

I sat on the chair across from him. "Merle finally cool off?"

He nodded once, not looking up from his work. "He went off into the woods, probably gonna find a quiet spot and take a hit from his stash. It's what he always does after somethin' like this happens." He stopped to stare at me.

I raised a brow. "What?"

He used his knife to gesture to the campsite. "Y'know, everybody here is terrified of Merle," he explained. "Nobody wants to even think of messin' with him. And if they do, it's normally 'cause Merle provokes 'em and they ain't thinkin' straight. Too dumb to know they wouldn't win."

"You know I could."

"Ain't worried about that," he shook his head, continuing to dice the meat. "Shane says you don't know how to pick your battles. I've only known you for a few days and I know that ain't true. Normally, people have to beat my brother down just to get him to stop for a second. He even grabbed you. You had every right to hand it to him. Instead, you talked him outa it. Even I can't always do that, and I've been dealin' with his bullshit since the day I was born." He paused again. "You got siblings?"

I pursed my lips, trying to choose my words carefully. "...Somewhere."

He was looking at me steadily. "They dead?"

I shook my head stiffly.

He searched my eyes for a bit, and then nodded slowly. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I'm still tryin' to tell Merle we should ditch these guys. When we do, we'll see if we can figure out where to start lookin'."

"For what," I asked, my voice coming out a little sharp.

"Your siblings. Your family."

I buried my face in my hands. "Daryl," I exhaled harshly. "I've been avoiding my family for an extremely long time now. I'm gonna keep it that way."

"Why," he scoffed incredulously.

"Because family should be the people that you surround yourself with, the people you choose for yourself." My voice was soft and tired. "It shouldn't just have to be the people you're born into."

He shook his head. "Family's blood."

I shrugged. "And that's your opinion." We both got quiet, as I expected. Daryl didn't see anyone in this world as family, except for Merle.

Boots coming towards us broke the silence. I looked over to see Shane. Daryl swept the diced meet into a sack and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Shane nodded. "I'll see if Carol wants to do any seasoning before cooking this up." He looked at me. "What you did back there, with Merle. That was impressive. I can't tell you how many times I've had to practically pry him off someone. You? You barely did anything and he stopped." When I didn't respond any further than a shrug, he continued. "Anyway, before Merle started shit, I was talkin' to him about goin' on a medicine run. Carol's little girl has a cough, probably nothing. But we're gettin' low on other meds, too. They'll be leaving in a few hours. There anything you can think of that we need?"

I tensed a little. "No."

Shane hummed thoughtfully. "Well, what about tin cans and string? Merle and Daryl told me you could make a security system. It'd give everyone here peace of mind."

"I can do that," I said shortly.

Shane nodded at us and left.

I turned to Daryl as he used a canteen to clear his hands of excess blood. "Did you know about the run," I asked him.

He nodded. "I was standin' there when Shane asked him."

My voice dropped to a hiss. "What part of 'handcuffed to a roof' didn't you understand?"

Without missing a beat, he said, "The part where you said you were from the future. Look, he goes on runs with everyone all the time. He's usually the only one ballsy enough to take on walkers. He can handle himself."


	8. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my editor. He helps to keep this story going.

_I could hear the soft melody of a young woman playing guitar amongst the crowd. Almost everyone at the prison was in the field next to the crops, gathered around a welcoming bonfire._

_Rick strode up beside where I was sitting. He looked down at me with a frown. "You aren't gonna join us?" I shook my head slowly. "It's a cold night. It's warmer by the fire."_

_I shook my head again. "I'm good"_

_He blew out a puff of air. "Layla, you gotta try."_

_I snorted. "Believe it or not, this is me trying. Rome wasn't built in a day. I've only just met you people."_

_"How're we gonna get to know you if you keep a distance? Let alone trust you?"_

_"You won't trust me either way. I see how some of your people look at me. They want nothing to do with me." I looked him in the eye. "And neither do you."_

_Rick crossed his arms. "So, give us a reason to think differently."_

_"I told you, it's on my terms, not yours," I said, mouth twisting into an irritated scowl._

_Rick shook his head, tried and failed to hide a glare, and went down the hill to join his people. From where I sat, I could see some of the kids playing tag, adults passing around alcohol, and could hear the woman switching to a CCR song._

_I didn't need to get any closer. I didn't have a reason to._

_I heard a pair of feather-light footsteps approaching. I turned to see Daryl. He stopped beside me._

_"You ain't gonna join 'em," he asked, brows scrunched._

_I shook my head._

_"Why?"_

_"Too many people," I responded simply._

_He looked down the hill at the bonfire and started to move. Looking away, I was expecting him to go join his people. Instead, to my utter confusion, he took a seat next to me on the grass._

_"What are you doing," I asked._

_"You're right," he shrugged. "Pretty crowded down there."_

_I shook my head at him. "Suit yourself." I continued staring at the bonfire. "That fire's gonna attract corpses," I pointed out._

_Daryl nodded. "Hoepfully your advice works."_

_"What advice?"_

_"That story you told," he said. "With the abandoned military base and the burnt walker bodies. You said the stench seemed to keep other walkers away. Rick and Carl spent the afternoon burnin' walker bodies by the front gate. Just for tonight." He pointed to the bonfire. "They're doin' this for more crops, make expansion easier. Whenever the fire goes out, Rick and Hershel'll till over it."_

_I didn't make a response to that, just listened to the bonfire and the music. By the time I realized it, almost an hour passed by, judging by how many songs the woman – I think her name was Beth? – cycled through. I almost forgot Daryl was still sitting next to me._

_"Why only two weeks?"_

_"Because," I explained stoically without looking at him. "I don't like people. I'm just using your prison as a way station." I gestured to the bonfire. "Why not go join your people?"_

_"Like I said, too crowded," he shrugged, face casual as he spread his legs forward and leaned back on his elbows. "It's peaceful right here. You want me to leave," he asked, calmly looking at me._

_I sifted through my mind rapidly, trying to dig up an excuse that was valid and made sense. He was sitting next to me, but not too close to trigger an episode. He was talking with me and asking questions, but not demanding anything. Every time there was silence between us, neither of us felt the need to fill it. Every time there were words spoken, nothing felt forced like an obligation._

_Finally, I exhaled and said, "No, you're fine."_

\-------

Days blended into weeks, or at least it seemed that way. Not like anyone had calendars anymore.

After a couple of as-needed runs, we finally had enough tin cans collected so I could string up a security system. And for a few days, things were hilarious.

Every now and then, some hapless joe would trip over the lines, forgetting that they were there. As soon as the cans would clank together, everyone got on their guard, grabbing a weapon, practically army crawling in the direction of the noise. When they got there, they would see one of the members of their campsite wrapped hopelessly in the line.

Every time the security system went off, Merle, Daryl, and I didn't even bother moving. Instead, we shook our heads and snickered at everyone's tension and antics. With the way someone or something tripped over it, the three of us could tell whether it was a human or an animal just by listening to the amount of clatter. Our teasing irritated everyone to no end.

Occasionally, we would hear some form of wildlife messing with the line, but no walkers yet. Finally, after almost a week, everyone got used to the security system and no longer tripped over it.

"What're we supposed to laugh at now," Merle exclaimed at dinner one time.

"Don't worry," Daryl said. "We'll find you a mirror." That got a big laugh from everyone.

I quickly learned that Merle didn't exactly hold grudges, that he simply liked to try and cause a hell of a fuss every now and then. I could tell that Merle enjoyed fighting, that he got a kick out of it. Between Daryl and I, we'd take turns on who got to break up one of Merle's verbal or physical confrontations. Although, it was very rare that Merle got physical. He mostly just wanted to get a rise from somebody and see how far things got.

"Is it your turn or my turn," Daryl said one day as we watched Merle trying to heckle Amy and Andrea. Not that he would get very far doing that as the sisters had some amazing one-liners.

"Can't remember," I said. I stuck my fist towards Daryl. "Rock, paper, scissors."

Tried as Daryl might, Merle never budged on how he wanted to deal with this group, still stuck on the opinion that we should steal from them.

"Between you, me, and Layla," Daryl whispered to Merle one night. "We don't need these sons of bitches. We don't need nothin' from 'em."

"Quit your belly achin'," Merle hissed. "Fine, we'll leave the food. We'll just take the weapons."

"Here's a radical idea," Daryl snapped. "We don't take shit from 'em!"

They went back and forth that night for hours. And they got nowhere. Merle was convinced we would steal from these guys eventually. Merle's excuse for taking so long? "I'm bidin' my time," he said. "Since you and Daryl are too high and mighty to take what's rightfully ours, I'm left to do the work all by my lonesome. Makes the situation delicate." I rolled my eyes at him in response.

Truth be told, I think Merle was just having too much fun trying to see how far he could mess with these people. It seemed to be the only reason he join others on runs. Given that Shane had to stay behind to run the camp, he always asked Merle to go on runs to be the muscle. Which, unfortunately, made sense. He always bragged about how many rounds he's popped into walkers, whereas everyone else avoided even so much as talking about them.

Merle and Daryl thought these people were pussies, and there were days where I agreed with them. However, I saw it for what it really was. Most of these people weren't cowards, they were just terrified. None of them were ready to embrace the fact that the apocalypse was here to stay.

Little by little, I interacted with the group members.

I avoided Carol's family like the plague for obvious reasons.

Dale was wonderful. He definitely wasn't cut out for this world, but that didn't stop him from trying to keep a positive attitude. At the same time, he wasn't oblivious. Actually, he was rather realistic. He helped with gun cleaning or went fishing when he wasn't on watch. And the way he talked wasn't rude, but still straight to the point.

Jim was similar, nice enough and had a realistic attitude. Like me, he kept to himself a lot. When he wasn't by himself, he was helping Dale with vehicle maintenance.

I didn't interact much with Amy and Andrea. It was one thing to be uppity and at least own up to it. These sisters didn't realize how they were at all. One day I heard Amy whispering how creepy some of my scars looked. Andrea responded back with, "I wouldn't be surprised if some of those were from the Dixon's."

Unable to help myself, I appeared into view with a wide grin and said, "Nope, these scars are just the trophies from the many throats I've had to slit over the years. Have a nice day, ladies!" The horrified glares they gave me were priceless.

Apparently, like the little princesses that they were, they told on me to Shane about eavesdropping.

"Well, if they have something to say about me, they oughta just grow a pair and say it," I said to him while Daryl snickered from beside me. "It's the end of the damn world. You think any of us have time for pussy-footing?"

Between rejecting a couple more of his advances and winning over some of the group, I could tell Shane was starting to get more and more fed up with me with every passing day. I always tried to never draw attention to myself because it's very easy for me to accidentally insult someone. However, more often than not, people would come to me for help. Which was my job. I was a floater when I wasn't scouting or on night watch. But help turned into asking for advice, which I could tell Shane viewed as a power struggle, even though he never confronted me on it. It was all in his uptight body language when I was near.

Lori kept trying to convince Shane that wasn't it. As nice as Lori was, she was non confrontational, so when a situation or conversation got heavy, she would often wait to see if anyone else could handle it, or she would walk away altogether. Overall, she had a hard time getting Shane to stop overthinking crap.

I steered clear of Lori and Shane in general. I didn't have the emotional tolerance to go anywhere near their drama.

When Lori and Shane were too distracted with each other, and when Sophia was doing chores with her mom, Carl would look to the other members of the group to spend time with. Carl thought I was cool, with my longbow and my scars. I didn't show him how to use my weapons – I wasn't his parent, after all – but I did tell him about all the trick shots I could do, and I let him watch and ask questions while I did maintenance on my weapons. Unfortunately, after the way I talked to Andrea and Amy, Lori probably told Carl to avoid me, as I barely saw much of him after that. Eh, I don't blame the woman.

I tried hanging out with Glenn a few times. During my first go-round of the apocalypse, Glenn and I went on plenty of runs together. I enjoyed Glenn's quick and efficient plans and thought they were always easy to follow. We would get done with the runs so quick that we would have time to hit up other places. His favorites were comic book stores and mine were hobby shops. I would joke about him geeking out over Poison Ivy, and he would joke about how I couldn't stop myself from taking apart model helicopters, piece by piece, as if I were doing forensic work.

I hung out with Glenn on and off, which he responded to awkwardly at first. I just thought it was because he didn't seem to have too many friends in this camp and was surprised I wanted to be his friend. But then one day Jacqui joked to me that he had a crush on me. Somehow, I'd forgotten that Glenn didn't know me yet, didn't know we were more or less brother and sister in a different life. Not knowing if Jacqui was actually telling the truth, and not even remotely sure how to respond to that, I decided to put up my usual professional distance and avoided Glenn for the time being. Damn you universe.

Jacqui, Morales, and T-Dog were hilarious, always having cynical jokes at the ready. They were also the first people to approach me when there was a 'Merle' problem. It wasn't that they couldn't handle themselves, it's just that Merle was unpredictable and they knew I was crazy enough to get in his face. At first I would tell them to go find Daryl, given that they were family. The problem was that even though Daryl could best Merle in a fight, Merle had ways of tuning out or brushing his brother off. I was the next – or sometimes first – line of defense, apparently. It all depended on their opinion of Daryl that day, which wasn't always a good one.

I didn't think that I'd get along with this Daryl. Loud-mouthed, in your face, impulsive, more talkative - mostly towards his brother and the group. For some reason, it took me way too long to realize he didn't exactly act that way around me.

Daryl never got in my face or invaded my personal space. He also didn't spat short insults at me like he did with others. And even though Merle still joked about me being from the future, Daryl had stopped calling me crazy.

Also, the more Daryl and I hung out, the quieter we got around each other, which sounds awkward for most people. Not for us. Daryl often kept me company when I went scouting, either by asking to come along or just silently appearing beside me. Out in the woods, we communicated with head nods, facial expressions, or gestures most of the time. We did very little talking.

The one time we split up so we could both check the tension at different points on the security system. Some of the lines had started sagging already and I was hoping all they needed was retied instead of replaced. While I was working on some of the line, I heard a short, but oh so familiar whistle.

Without looking away from my work and without thinking about, I whistled back. Except it wasn't exactly a whistle. It was a shrill, echoing, chirping noise that was hard to miss.

Daryl found where I was and crouched beside me. He held the line to take some weight off while I adjusted it. "The hell kind of noise was that," he asked.

I chirped again, not as loud this time. I laughed when his face twisted into a dramatic grimace. "When cheetahs travel in a group and split up, they make this chirping noise to relocate each other. It's how they find their friends and family."

"Hmm, learn somethin' new every day," was all he said as we stood up to go and find Merle.

It was often that Merle went off and did his own thing. He would either do some hunting, take a hit from his drugs, or just simply avoid Daryl and I. It pissed Daryl off at times.

"You seen Merle," Daryl asked at some point.

"Nope," I shrugged from where I was sitting next to the tents. "But he's not bothering anyone right now, so that's a plus."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go find him," he grumbled.

"Why?"

"If Merle ends up getting surrounded by walkers alone, he'll be stupid enough to think he can take 'em all on."

"And he probably could," I remarked. "Maybe he just wants to be alone for a while."

"Bein' alone'll get you killed," he scoffed and went into the woods. With a sigh, I got up and followed him.

It happened a lot. Merle would disappear for hours at a time, and Daryl felt it was his job to go and find him. Sometimes I went with Daryl, sometimes I went on my own lone adventures.

I took watch during most of the nights, and if I was awake during the day I would be scouting around for signs of walkers, checking the security system, or helping the others with stuff. Every now and then someone other than me would take night watch. When the nightmares got too much, I'd leave the tent in the middle of the night and go for a hike. It was normal for me not to come back until early or even much later the next day.

I was out scouting again, had been since well before dawn. As usual, I found no walker tracks. I scowled, knowing our peacefulness couldn't last long once the walkers started moving further from the cities. My stomach growled, and I started to head back to camp when a whistle made me stop. I chirped back. Daryl came out of the brush. As soon as he saw me, he stomped over and got in my face.

"You got somethin' against tellin' people when you leave," he snapped harshly.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Daryl," I grinned at him, unfazed. "What's the problem? I'm supposed to be scouting. It's my job to be out here."

"Ain't your job to give me a damn heart attack every time you go somewhere!"

"Hey, It's not like I'm looking for trouble. I'm just doing my damn job! I can take care of myself, you know tha-" I stopped, eyes widening slowly. For many seconds, no words passed my lips. I was just trying to process what he was trying to say. Eventually, I stated the obvious. "You care."

"The hell's that supposed to mean," he said with a scoff. "Why wouldn't I? You see me hangin' out with anyone else?"

I put my hand to my forehead and exhaled. My heart had picked up speed, thrilled to hear what he just said. I tried not to get ahead of myself though. It's not like he was spouting out anything romantic or dramatic, but for him to tell me he cared when I'd been trying so hard to keep a detached distance for both our sakes was music to my ears.

Daryl's arms were crossed, still glaring, but with no real heat behind it. I exhaled again. "Look," I started calmly. "I can't always be around people. You know that. And with how close-knit everyone is in this camp, it's easy for me to start suffocating. And there've been times where it's gotten to that. I need to get away, sometimes for hours. It's how I keep from losing my mind."

He nodded once. "I get that, always have. And I always got that you can take care of yourself. It ain't what I'm complainin' about. I always tell you where I'm goin'. You can't do the same?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "Up until this point I've been too dense to realize you cared." I smiled at him. "Yes, I can do the same," I said. Getting lost in my thoughts, I looked away while still smiling.

Daryl tilted his head to try and keep my gaze. "What," he asked, tone more curious than confrontational.

"Nothing it's just…We had a similar conversation…In the future that is. I didn't get along at all with your group for the longest time. So I came and went as I pleased. Y…You were the first person to come up to me and say that I had to tell people when I was coming and going. That it was only fair to give 'em peace of mind." I chuckled. "Even after you told me that, it still took me weeks to wrap my head around the fact that some of you guys truly cared." I trailed off.

He hummed. "Don't know much about that," he muttered. "And I don't know if the people in our campsite give a shit about you. But I do. And so does Merle even if he never admits it."

"I care about you, too," I said quietly. I grinned slightly. "Merle's a bit of a stretch, though."

He snorted. "You tolerate him, and you ain't afraid to hand his ass to him. That's good enough for me."

I nodded in the direction of the campsite. We both began heading back, side by side, moving through the woods peacefully and effortlessly quiet. I mentally scolded myself for being too oblivious that Daryl and I had pretty much been like this since they introduced me to this group. Right before making it to the campsite, he started talking again.

"Does it get on your nerves," he muttered.

"What," I asked.

"You're always out here to get away from the group. Does it…um." He scratched the back of his neck. "Does it bother you that I join you most of the time?"

"Does it bother you when I shout insults at your brother?"

He half-smirked and shook his head.

I smiled at him. "It doesn't bother me, never has." I paused, smile slipping. "But…Once in a blue moon I need to be completely alone. If I ever ask for that, please don't be offend-"

"Naw," he shook his head rapidly. "Like I said, I get it. I'm the same way sometimes."

We didn't say anything else as we entered the campsite. As soon as we got there, Glenn came up to us.

"Hey, guys," he said. "Shane's over by Lori's tent. He's been looking for you both." We nodded at him and walked passed. "Hey," he said again. I turned around to see that his hand was reaching towards my arm. As soon as he saw my face and what he was doing, he immediately dropped it. "Right, sorry, forgot," he said in a rush. I smiled my thanks. It took a while, but the people here eventually caught on that I didn't like to be touched. And because I answered questions on my own time, they never questioned it. They even seemed to respect it.

Glenn glanced at Daryl. "I just need a word with Layla…alone?"

Daryl glanced at me once and then walked over to Shane.

"What's up," I said casually.

"Well, it's just…" He shifted on his feet a little. "I kind of get the impression that you're avoiding me."

Well, he was bound to ask about that sooner or later. "Glenn, I avoid everyone when I can help it."

"Yeah, but it seemed like you wanted to be friends at first and then all of a sudden…"

I exhaled and grinned slightly. "Someone was joking about how you had a crush on me. I backed off because I didn't wanna give you the wrong impression."

He scratched the back of his neck and stuttered slowly. "Well, I, um…Kind of did."

"That's nice of you," I said as gently as I could. "But I'm not interested." Glenn nodded sadly. I felt a smirk creep onto my face. "But, hey, you'll find someone. It may be the end of the world, but people still exist."

He nodded again. "Right," he muttered. He hesitantly stuck out his hand and said, "Friends?"

I shook his hand once. "Totally." Before walking away completely, I spun around. "Question," I told Glenn. "And you don't have to answer, but…You're not the first person to hit on me here. But why would you?"

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Have you met you? You're a badass."

I choked out a laugh. "Everyone here has the complete capability of doing the things I do."

He shook his head slowly. "Maybe, but not with your confidence. It's like you don't have any fear." On that note, he walked away.

I started walking over to Shane and Daryl. I…didn't disagree with Glenn about the confidence part. When it came to walkers or even chores, some of these people weren't even remotely confident. And as far as the fearlessness…well, everybody's afraid of something. I'm certainly not exempt.

"'Sup Layla," Shane greeted curtly. "I was just fillin' Daryl in on what's goin' on. I need you and Daryl to go on a huntin' trip. We're gettin' low on protein."

"When," I asked.

"ASAP."

I looked at Daryl. I crossed my arms casually behind my back, and then I nodded and shrugged at the same time. Expressionless, Daryl glanced at the woods for a split second, and then nodded as well.

"What time do you think we should leave," I asked.

"Tomorrow. Before the crack of dawn," Daryl said. "You bein' a morning person and all."

I glared at him. "Great, I get to deal with Merle's early-morning smart-ass mouth. Depending on how sleep deprived I feel, can I kick him just for laughs?"

"You two'll get a break from Merle," Shane said, and I almost forgot he was there. "We're runnin' low on a bunch of other things, too. Car parts, soap, batteries, clothes. You name it, we're probably needin' it. I got some people goin' on a run tomorrow. Merle's goin' with 'em, like always." He glanced between Daryl and I. "Food's the most important thing at this point, though. When should we expect you guys back?"

"When we find an animal to shoot," Daryl huffed, rolling his eyes.

Shane fought to not scowl at him. "Think you can make it back in two days?"

"Two or three hopefully," I responded. "But no guarantees. Either way, we'll come back with something."

We really were getting low on meat. That night, we only had cooked canned veggies with strips of jerky. We all lamented about the unhealthy portion of the meal, because there went the last of the packaged, artery-clogging, mouth-watering jerky. However, there was plenty of canned food for tomorrow, and maybe the next day if they stretched it.

Me, Daryl, and Merle were sitting by their tents, and the rest of the group was gathered around the main fire. Shane was bringing an axe down on some firewood. It had rained the day before. Most of the logs that needed to be split were wet, and Shane was having a more difficult time as a result.

Another group of people that kept separate from the fire were Carol and her family. They had their own little campfire, and their own meal routine.

I normally avoided Carol's family, not only because I wasn't interested in making friends with Carol, but also because I'd been fed up with Ed from the start. He didn't do anything for this group or even for himself. People here had gotten so used to it that they simply worked around him, ignored him, or were so terrified of him that they did stuff for him.

I heard Ed mutter something. Looking over, I could see Carol rushing to get another pack of smokes and a lighter for Ed. Ed grabbed them from her without so much as a thank you. At some point, Sophia asked quietly, "Daddy, why do you smoke?"

Carol leaned forward to look her daughter in the eye. "You don't wanna take up smoking, sweetie," she said gently. "It's bad for you-"

"Hush up, woman," Ed cut her off in a bored tone. "If our daughter wants to smoke, that's up to here. Ah, damn! These are the stale ones. I told you where I keep the good ones, didn't I?"

Carol stuttered a fast apology and scurried into their tent, probably to look for more.

Ed jutted his chin at the fire. "Why don't you put another log on there?"

Sophia stared at the log pile next to Ed's chair. "But I don't think I can carry those."

Probably thinking Carol wasn't being fast enough, he lit one of the stale cigarettes. "Yeah, well, try it anyway. It's cold as balls tonight." I watched as Sophia tried to pick up a log, and Carol came back with yet another pack of cigarettes.

At the prison, everyone pulled their weight, always trying to help each other out. Alexandria was a little more on the selfish side, but still pulled their weight when possible. This camp was terrified of every leaf rustle, and they weren't that strong in any sense of the world, but they knew they couldn't afford to lose each other. So, they still tried. Ed was just one person, and he didn't care to try whatsoever. It was one thing for Ed to not care about the group as a whole, but he had a family. To not prioritize the people you supposedly care about…

My teeth clicked together.

Okay, bullshit time is over.

I stood up, but paused. I looked at Daryl and said with a cheery grin, "I'm gonna go somewhere. Specifically, into the lion's den."

"I feel bad for the lion," Merle snorted. "Can we watch?"

"You need back up," Daryl asked.

"Probably not, but I will need that axe."

Raising an eyebrow, Daryl reached behind him and took hold of the axe leaning against Merle's tent.

Merle chuckled as he watched me take it. "Like I said, I feel bad for the lion."

I let the axe swing idly at my side as I made my way over. Carol and Sophia stared tensely at me as I dropped the axe at Ed's feet. Ed stalled, looking at the axe as if it was an engaging ESPN segment. After letting a cloud of nasty cigarette smoke billow in my face, he finally glared up at me from where he was sitting. He stared at me with an expression that clearly said, 'Don't you dare'. And I looked right back at him, 'Oh, I'm gonna.'

"Okay," I started. "Clearly you don't give two shits about your family." As I said that, Shane stopped chopping, and the rest of the group fell silent. It was so quiet that I could hear Daryl fidget apprehensively with his crossbow. I didn't have to look at anyone to know what they were all staring at.

"And that's none of my business," I continued neutrally. "But what is my business is the fact that I'm a member of this group. You are, too. Everyone in this campsite has contributed to the dinner they're eating. Cooking, dishes, watch duty, etcetera. You? You've done nothing. You haven't even done anything for your own family." I pointed vaguely behind me. "Shane and Jim have been taking turns busting their asses to keep the fire going." I tapped the axe with my toe until it touched Ed's boots. "Why don't you give 'em a break and do your share?"

Ed's expression didn't waver. "You ain't tellin' me what to do," he said, barely above a mutter.

"You know how to swing an axe, don't you? I know how to swing an axe and I'm clearly the Incredible Hulk," I said, flexing my scrawny arms. "But you're right," I shrugged. "None of us can make you do anything, because you don't know how to do anything."

I heard Shane say warningly, "Layla…"

"No, think about it, Shane," I said, not taking my eyes off Ed. "We've never seen him lift a tool, car part, or weapon. He probably can't cook, so he'd starve to death without us. And I'll bet'cha he's never chopped a log in his entire life."

With every word I spoke, I never raised my voice, keeping steady and with a tone of only mild interest. With every word I spoke, Ed's expression remained the same, but the bulge in his neck got bigger and bigger.

I tapped the axe once more. "Prove me wrong," I told him. "Prove to me that you can do more than sit on your ass and give blow jobs to cancer sticks. Pull your own weight and maybe someday – just someday - we might have mutual respect for each other."

For the first time in minutes, Ed spoke up. "I sure got under your skin, didn't I?"

"Yep. Because I only surround myself with people I can trust to have my back when it comes down to it," I replied smoothly. "I have to live with you nearby, and I know you wouldn't save or help anyone if shit hit the fan. Hell, you'd probably just roll over and let a walker munch on you. So prove me wrong. Use that axe to hack up some logs. You'll be proving to me that you're useful and can even handle a weapon."

I crossed my arms. "Prove. Me. Wrong. I dare you."

The only noise to be heard for miles was the crackling of the two separate campfires – the group's, and the Pelitier's.

Ed hadn't moved an inch, and Carol and Sophia were frozen in place. I could tell by the emotions constantly flickering over Carol's face that she wanted to do something, anything to diffuse the situation. But she kept looking to Ed, as if she needed his permission first.

I flinched when he finally moved, not expecting him to kick the axe directly into the front of my legs. Aside from flinching, I made no other moves or noises, despite the throbbing pain that bloomed.

Ed blew out another puff of smoke, leaned back in his chair, and said, "Go back to your own fuckin' campsite."

I shrugged, picked up the axe, and turned around. "I wasn't expecting anything less," I said, loud enough for Ed to hear as I walked away. I ignored the murmurings of the rest of the group.

I set the axe back against Merle's tent and grabbed my longbow from beside my chair. Daryl came up to me, his eyes checking over my legs. "Y'alright," he asked.

"Like I said," I shrugged. "I expected nothing less. I've gotta go do watch for the next few hours. See you guys in the morning." Before walking away, I saw Merle smirking and shaking his head, and Daryl glaring in Ed's direction.


	9. Promise

_We skidded into the cellar, practically tripping down the stairs as we went. As soon as we were in, we slammed the doors shut and held onto them for dear life. Walkers growled and roared hungrily outside as they pushed and jarred against us._

_"You gonna lock it sometime soon," Daryl shouted at me over the cacophony. Beside me was the wooden board that went over the door, and in front of me was the unlocked padlock. "I'll hold 'em for a second while you grab the board! Trust me!"_

Trust isn't the issue, _I wanted to shout back at him, but I could already feel my lungs gasping for air at what I had to do._

_I let go, grabbed the board, jammed it over the door, and secured the padlock. After I did so, we still didn't move. The walkers weren't going to go away for hours, but we hoped that they would at least calm down enough to not break the door apart. Finally, after no noise from our end, the walkers' franticness simmered. They were still shoving at the door, but with less chutzpa now._

_Daryl and I stepped further into the room. He was relieved that we could relax. Me, however? I could barely breathe. I couldn't focus on anything except for the sound of the padlock still ringing in my mind and the fact that we were locked in. With a pitiful groan, I raked my nails painfully down my face._

_"Hey," Daryl hissed, trying to keep his voice low and not rile the walkers further. "What's wrong?" He was in front of me, dipping his head to try to look in my eyes._

_"I just," I stuttered as I began to pace jaggedly. "The-the lock, I-" I looked over at the wooden nightstand. "I…If I asked you to do something-"_

_"Anythin'," he said. "Name it."_

_"You don't have to-"_

_"Name it," he repeated firmly._

_"The nightstand," I said as I choked on the air. "If you could shoot a bolt into it, preferably from a distance…If not, I-" A bolt whistled through the air and embedded in the nightstand with a dull thunk._

_I froze in place. Within a couple agonizing seconds, my breathing returned, the spots cleared away from my vision, and I could no longer feel my heart pounding in my ears. "Thank you," I whispered._

_"What the hell just happened," he asked, still looking at me with a mix of curiosity and worry._

_"I…I need a minute, okay?"_

_He searched my face some more, then nodded once. I sat down on the wicker chair next to the nightstand. He took a seat on the bed in front of me. I dislodged the bolt and tossed it his way._

_The cellar we had to hole up in looked like a bunker. It had a bed, chairs, oil lamp, and canned food on the shelves. Whoever owned the house we were currently under really tried to prepare for end of days. This cellar saved our asses today, and I sent a silent 'thank you' to the previous owners._

_When I finally calmed down enough, I told him about what just happened, why it happened. He asked short, but detailed questions in response. What triggers it? Is that why you don't like to be touched? Why does sound help? How do you prevent the triggers? I chuckled darkly because I didn't have a snowballs chance in hell of knowing the answer to that last one._

_After some silence, he moved the topic of conversation to how I was adapting to the prison._

_"You're the only one making it bearable," I said._

_"How so," he asked, raising a brow behind his dark bangs._

_"Well," I thought aloud. "Everyone there is constantly trying to talk to me, get me to open up. I've told everyone many times, it's gotta be on my terms. Rick's the most impatient out of the whole bunch." I paused and stared into his eyes. "You're the only one who hasn't rushed me. You kind of just have this habit of…appearing next to me and not saying a word. And when we go hunting or go on runs, you ask me questions, but you don't look fed up when I don't answer some of them. And the way you're perfectly fine with silence? I can just…exist around you. I don't feel cornered." I glanced at the concrete floor. "You have no idea how awesome that feels," I whispered._

_After another bout of silence, Daryl spoke up. "You get it," he murmured._

_"What," I asked him._

_He shifted a little, not uncomfortably, but as if he were having trouble finding words. "Everyone likes to fill in the silence with talkin' and stuff. I've lived in the woods my whole life, where you have to be quiet. Ain't never met anyone that enjoyed silence just for the sake of it." He paused. "You also get…everythin'."_

_I raised a brow. "You gotta be a little more specific."_

_"You don't even like us, but you were willing to use air horns to lead a shit-ton of walkers away from some broken gates. Didn't even think twice. If you hadn't done that, we woulda got overrun._

_"And you don't take no one's bullshit, neither. The way you've mouthed off to some of the more uppity people…And the way you're more than happy to get into Rick's face? Ain't never seen anythin' like it."_

_I chuckled. "Like I said, I'm an asshole."_

_"Naw," he shook his head. "I know assholes. You ain't one of 'em. If you were, we wouldn't hang out as much as we do." He fidgeted with the bolt, not wanting to say much else._

_Night fell. The walkers calmed a lot more, but we could still hear them marching and brushing up against the doors. Originally, the goal was to be back this evening or early morning. We had hardware for the pigpen in one of the bike's saddlebags. Daryl had started the motorcycle. The backfire it made tore through the air and suddenly we were surrounded by walkers. We had to use this cellar to make a break for it._

_We hadn't packed any heavy clothes under the impression that we could always make a fire. I curled my knees up to my chest as an evening draft blew in. Daryl shifted on the bed, and he held up the blanket._

_I shook my head at him._

_He frowned at me and jerked the blanket in my direction._

_I shook my head again._

_Suddenly, the blanket was tossed onto my lap. Glaring at him, I tossed it right back at his face._

_He shook his head impatiently. After putting half the blanket around his shoulders, he held up the other half and looked at me._

_I froze._

_"I'm not askin' you to cuddle or nothin'. I know you wouldn't like that," he said softly. "We can at least be smart and share the damn thing."_

_My eyes flickered between Daryl and the blanket. Cautiously, I stood up, walked across the room, and sat next to him. I was hanging my bow on the bed frame when I realized he was waiting for me to take the blanket instead of draping it on me himself. I took it from him. We weren't touching, but as soon as we were both wrapped up I could feel his warmth. I curled my legs up on the mattress and crossed them._

_"I like you," I whispered. "Out of everyone there, I trust and like you the most. Thank you for that."_

_"…I like you, too."_

_I snorted. "Give it a while."_

_"I have," he whispered back. "You said you were gonna leave after two weeks. You know it's been over a month?"_

_From under the blanket, my hand waved dismissively. "Time is relative."_

_"You still thinkin' about leavin'?"_

_"I…I don't know. No one particularly wants me there."_

_"I do. Glenn, Maggie, and Tyreese, too, and others. And even if they didn't…I do."_

_I couldn't help my teeth from gritting. "And what do you want from me?"_

_After a few seconds, Daryl said, "That's up to you."_

_I turned slightly to look sharply in his eyes. "Even after knowing how fucked up I am? Even after knowing that I may never be completely comfortable with touch?" I scoffed. "And what about sex, huh? I'm asexual."_

_"Asexual," he repeated and tilted his head thoughtfully. "That means you can't have sex, right?"_

_"Sort of. For some people," I said. "For me, it means I don't want sex. That I don't have a sex drive."_

_He looked away and scratched the back of his neck. "Is it, um, an attractiveness thing?"_

_I let loose a chuckle. "Don't think I don't find you attractive, because I do," I replied softly. "It's just…I don't feel the need or want to have sex."_

_Daryl just hummed and then looked thoughtfully at the opposite wall. I uncrossed my knees to curl them tightly to me chest. Daryl and I understood each other, but we weren't telepathic. In that moment, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. About our feelings for each other? About not being friends at all? At the latter, my heart sank so low that it was probably now taking up residence in hell._

_"Hey," Daryl's voice caught my attention. I turned my head to look at him, my temple now resting on my knees. He was staring at me with a confused expression. "What's got you so worried?"_

_The world around me froze. "W-what do you mean?"_

_"Ain't never seen you so flustered before. What's wrong?"_

_"Uh, th-the part where I won't have sex?"_

_Daryl shrugged calmly. "Ain't nothin' wrong with you. I ain't judgin'."_

_"No," I shook my head. "That-that's not what I was getting at. But…If we wanted to be…well, more." Jesus, I was no good with subtleties. "Then, wouldn't it bother you after a while?"_

_He hummed. "Dunno. Ain't never been in a relationship before, just one-night stands." I nodded, eyes downcast. "This don't change nothin'."_

_I shook my head, looking away and keeping my expression neutral. "The last thing I'd want is for you to resent us because I won't have sex."_

_I could feel his eyes on me. Unable to stop myself, I looked up at him again. He was calm, as if there was nothing wrong. "This don't change nothin'," he repeated as if it were obvious._

_I studied his face and replayed those words in my head over and over. Finally, I snorted. "Let's see," I said. "I hate being touched, I won't have sex, and more than half of your people want me gone." I shook my head. "Are you really prepared to deal with all that? I mean…I'll do my best to sort out my crap, but-"_

_He scoffed. "I ain't askin' you to change. Ain't nothin' wrong with you." I raised a brow at him. After a second, he nodded. "Alright, fine, there are things wrong with you, but not with who you are."_

_"This_ is _who I am," my reply was strained. "An asexual, touch-phobic, PTSD-ridden pain in the ass."_

_"That's your opinion," he shrugged. I buried my face in my hands. He snorted lightly. "Between the two of us, you're the only one hung up on this. So, you don't like to be touched. I get it. I don't like havin' my back touched a whole lot. As far as the sex thing...I guess I'd be takin' care of that solo."_

_I glared at the ground. "You're gonna want actual intimacy after a while."_

_"You don't know the future," he remarked. "And I make my own decisions."_

_I chuckled darkly. "And what would you get out of all this?"_

_He hummed, pausing thoughtfully. "Guess that's up to you."_

_For a moment, I didn't understand what he was getting at. And then I realized he was waiting for me to get the last word, final thoughts._

_I let my shoulders hunch and an exhale escape me, more tired than I realized. "I want what you want," I said slowly. "But…I also want you to think about it-"_

_"Ain't nothin' to think about," he said, shaking his head quickly._

_I continued as if I hadn't heard him. "Because I don't know if I can change. I've had so many things piled on top of me over the years, I feel buried. I don't know how to get out. I don't know if I_ can _get out. Like I said, I'll try, but…I don't know if I'll get anywhere. If_ we'll _get anywhere. I want you to promise you'll really think about all this. Okay?"_

_Almost an hour passed by. That hour was filled with nothing but the darkness of the cellar and the sounds of walkers still milling about outside. I got more and more tired, more and more ready to disassociate for the rest of the night, and maybe the rest of the century. Then, he spoke again, and it was the last word spoken that night._

_"Promise," he said softly._

\-------

Dale took over for me after several hours, having lost track of time. I didn't know how late it was when I got back to the tent. My guess was very late. I debated on whether it was worth it to catch some rest, or go scouting for some game before Daryl woke up. Thinking it was best to get some shuteye, I lied down.

I woke up with a jolt, and I was already routinely forcing air into my straining lungs. Shakily, I exhaled. That nightmare had been faster and kinder, but no less gut-wrenching. All in all, a decent few hours sleep.

"Mornin'," a voice murmured. I turned over to see Daryl adjusting his crossbow. He paused to look at me. Squinting at me, he said, "Y'alright?"

I half-smirked. "Just another day in paradise."

He snorted in response.

I slowly sat up. After doing a brief stretch, I grabbed my backpack and started taking inventory. If we were going hunting, we'd need to haul the meat back at some point, so I wanted as much room in my pack as possible. I took out the gun and iPod and set them in a corner of Daryl's tent.

"You oughta take the gun," Daryl said. "Might need it."

"I'll be fine," I responded. "A gun's just gonna cause extra weight and chaos anyway. Do you have any sacks or bags left to carry the meat?" He handed them to me and I put them in my pack.

Daryl moved on to inspecting his bolts. I saw that he only had a couple left. "If you want," I suggested. "I could make some more bolts for you. They won't be as long-lasting as retail ones, but it'd be better than nothing."

"I know how to make my own," Daryl said. "I'll make 'em as we go along." He stood up and put his crossbow over his shoulder. "Let's go."

When we walked out of the tent, the sky was still dark. Early morning birds hadn't even started singing yet. Daryl looked at me and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. Nodding, I walked ahead of him and we both exited the camp to go deeper into the woods.

We arrived at a small clearing. I kept my eyes to the ground. It took up until this point for my eyes adjust to the darkness, but now that they had I could see things a bit more clearly. I was looking for hoof prints, or parted grass from a game trail. When I didn't hear any footsteps aside from my own, I stopped and looked over at Daryl. He was standing a short distance away, arms crossed as if waiting for something.

"You gonna help," I asked.

He shifted his feet slightly. "Don't wanna muck up your trail."

"I haven't even found anything yet," I said. "Maybe try searching the outer edges of the clearing? I'll keep looking around here."

He nodded and walked away.

When he came back, he said, "Nothin'. Doesn't look like nothin's been through here in a while."

I nodded, not finding anything either. I looked at him. "I know you're not a fan of hunting at night. Why'd you wanna leave so early?"

He shrugged. "The earlier in the day you go huntin', the better. 'Sides, you always look like you know what you're doin' out here this late. So, you lead. I don't get how you can see much of anythin' out here, though. You ain't scared of somethin' poppin' out at you?"

I shook my head. "So long as we keep as quiet as possible, we should hear something coming before we actually see it."

He nodded and we continued on our way.

Over the next hour, we saw an old, unused game trail, shot one rabbit, tracked pig prints that led to a rotting pig corpse, and not much else. Daryl took the time to grab branches from an oak tree and whittled them down. I took out some bird feathers that were lying at the bottom of my backpack and handed them to him. He nodded his thanks and finished making the bolts.

Another hour passed, and we finally found some deer tracks, but they were old and probably not reliable. Still, it was better than nothing. We put tracking on pause to light a small fire and cook the rabbit. As soon as it was done cooking, the sun was just peeking through the trees.

I sat on the ground as close to the fire as I could stand it to dry the dew off my shoes and legs. Daryl handed me half the rabbit for breakfast. After he had gotten done eating his half, he shimmied off the log he'd been sitting on to plunk onto the ground. He scooted so he could warm himself by the fire as well. I was probably blushing because he had moved so close our sides were almost touching. A downside to having touch issues is that, even when you're not afraid of a particular person's touch, you're always hyperaware of how everyone around you orients themselves. Just in case you need to flinch away.

After we were adequately dry, we both stood up at the same time and I kicked out the fire. Over the next few hours, we continued focusing on the deer tracks. Occasionally, we had to split up because the trail got thin and we needed to fan out. Aside from him whistling or me chirping, we did all of it with relative silence. Every direction we gave each other was using nods, facial expressions, or other gestures.

It was well after noon when we decided we needed another break. We stopped by a stream to fill up our canteens and water bottles. Lunch didn't sound like a bad idea either, but we hadn't shot anything else other than that rabbit we ate. Eating would probably have to wait until dinner.

The air was dry today. We had to work hard to keep our footfalls silent. As we maneuvered around the debris of a fallen tree, twigs and leaves crackled under our feet. I scowled and finally removed my shoes and socks. Stuffing the socks in the shoes and tying the laces together, I draped my shoes over my shoulder. I grinned as I walked, the ground under my feet now a little more quiet.

I noticed Daryl staring amusedly at my bare feet. "You're just askin' to step in deer shit," he said.

"You ever hear of the song "Barefootin'"," I grinned at him. "Hey, you can't make fun of me. My feet our quieter than yours right now."

"Nu-uh, I ain't walkin' barefoot through the woods."

"Fine," I teased. "But if all the deer get scared away, I'm blaming you."

The more we followed the deer tracks, the fresher they got. It looked like there were three separate sets of prints. Three deer. We hoped we were closing in on them.

More hours passed and the sun began to set. By the time we had the fire made, it was almost completely dark. I had just gotten finished setting up the tin cans when Daryl tossed me a peach. One of the clearings we stumbled upon had some fruit trees, which was lucky for us because we hadn't managed to shoot any dinner.

I grimaced at the fruit. I barely chewed as I took a bite and swallowed, trying not to think about how it felt going down.

"What's that face for," Daryl asked with a chuckle, sitting next to me by the fire.

"Peaches," I answered disgustedly. "I hate them."

Daryl looked at me like I grew an extra head. "You're in Georgia, how the hell can you hate peaches?" He took a bite out of his peach and chewed loudly, as if to make a point.

"Ugh! How the hell can you stand them? They're sweet like cheap syrup and their texture's just…Ugh, no thank you." Finally, I downed the last of my peach and took a long gulp of my water.

"You clearly ain't from Georgia," he said, poking at the fire. "So, where're you from?"

"Everywhere, I guess. Being homeless means the world is my oyster. I've been all over the eastern U.S."

"Where were you before you were homeless?"

"A little bit south of Pittsburgh," I said. "Had my own apartment and everything."

"How'd you lose it all?"

I flexed my jaw, and said, "Every time I tell someone why, they think I'm ungrateful. Or that I screwed myself over."

"I ain't gonna judge."

"I know," I said softly. "Well," I began. "I had a good apartment, a good job, and a good motorcycle. One day, I just…decided I didn't wanna do what I was doing anymore. I packed up everything I could carry, jumped on my bike, and just…went. No destination.

"The more miles I put behind me, the more I thought that I was gonna turn around any moment, that what I was doing was crazy and beyond stupid. I eventually got to a rural area, drove into the woods, and slept in the dirt for the night. I grew up in the countryside before moving to the city, but that didn't make me an expert woodsman. I had no idea what I was doing. I got hungry real quick, so I had to figure out what I was gonna eat, figure out where to find water.

"I kept to the woods for the most part, not wanting anything to do with cities or people. I'd taught myself how to make a slingshot and how to shoot it. Actually, I'm gonna correct myself. I went into the city for supplies and other as-needed stuff, and to go to the library to get books on field dressing and edible plants. Everything else, though, I had to learn as I went. Every day I thought about going back to my apartment less and less, until the thought no longer crossed my mind."

For a few moments, we didn't speak.

Daryl eventually spoke up. "Sometimes I woulda killed to have my own place and a steady job. Merle and I drifted around so much that no place felt like home. Except the woods. Every time I thought about findin' a place for myself, the only options seemed to be in the cities, and I knew I'd lose my mind after a while. You said you stuck to the woods. Sounds like the perfect choice to me."

"Not always," I grumbled morbidly. "When you're in the city, there are more people around to be a witness to stuff. Out in the middle of nowhere, if something happens to you, that's it. You're either going permanently missing or help takes ages to arrive. I'd rather be in the woods than in the city, but every now and then someone would try to steal or assault me. I had to figure out self-defense real quick. Can't tell you how many times I've woken up to some douche bag pinning me down and trying something."

"That why you don't like bein' touched," he asked quietly.

I shook my head. "Different matter entirely."

He hummed. "Does it have somethin' to do with you bein' from the future?" I shook my head again. "Why do you think you're from the future, anyway?"

"'Cause I got eaten by a shit-ton of walkers, and then I woke up practically at the start."

"And you say you know me and Merle?"

"I know you," I said. "I never met your brother until now."

"Prove it," he said.

"Really," I deadpanned. "This again?"

He reclined until he was propped on his elbows. "Mhm. Still don't have a reason to believe you about it."

"Jesus," I mumbled, copying his position so that we were eye level. "How?"

"If you say you know me, maybe you know somethin' personal about me. Try that."

Son of a god damn bitch.

I narrowed my eyes. "No."

"Why not?"

I bit my lip, struggling to tread lightly. "Because you've trusted me with a lot of personal stuff, stuff you know I would never tell a soul. I'm not gonna fuck up that trust for the entire world, even if it is you."

"Well, shit," he said. "Now you got me curious."

"No, Daryl," I muttered.

"So, what," he snapped. "You trust future me, but you don't trust _me_ me?"

"I trust you," I shot back. "What I don't trust is that you won't ever trust me again. You, Daryl, don't share things with people unless you one-hundred percent trust them. The last thing I wanna do is tell you personal stuff and scare you off." I mumbled a curse under my breath. "You are the only person in that camp that I'm close to."

Daryl looked away to stare at the fire. After many seconds of silence, I saw that he dropped the matter. I was thankful for that. And then, he moved on to something else entirely.

"There're plenty of people in that camp. Why hang out with me?"

"I could ask the same question," I said. "Every time I'm doing something, you almost always end up magically appearing."

He scratched his nose idly. "Told you. Don't wanna hang out with no one else."

"I'm glad," I said conversationally. "'Cause neither do I."

"Seemed like you were tryin' to be close with Glenn," he said with a scowl that he seemed to be trying to hide.

"That's because I end up calling him my brother at some point."

"So…" He hesitated. "Nothin' goin' on there? With anyone?"

"Nope," I said, lying fully on my back and closing my eyes. I listened to the thrilling, homey sound of the crackling fire. When Daryl spoke again, it was a soft whisper.

"So, what about me?"

Eyes still closed, my brows knitted together, confused. "What about you?"

"I don't know," he mumbled quickly. "Just – I was wonderin'–" He made an irate grumbling noise that I didn't think was directed at me, but I had yet to open my eyes to look at him. "I wanna try somethin', but I want you to tell me if it don't work."

My brows furrowed even more. "Sure, yeah, but-"

My heart rate sped up, suddenly thrilled by something else. Daryl's calloused fingers were whispering against the back of my hand. My eyes shot open, but I didn't dare move, afraid to spook him. Daryl was now sitting up. He had shifted a couple inches away so that he wasn't towering over me. Through the darkness, I could just barely see his eyes analyzing my face as his fingers continued to brush over my skin.

The ecstatic smile on my face bordered on painful as my heart continued to soar. I tried to make my smile smaller, so as not over-dramatize things. I was more than likely failing. "You don't scare me, Daryl," I told him happily.

The corners of his lips twitched minutely. Then, his fingers curled gradually until he was gently clutching my whole hand. "How about now," he whispered cautiously.

Still smiling, I sat up and gave his familiar warm hand a squeeze. "You don't scare me, Daryl," I repeated quietly.

"Why," he asked.

"Because you understand me, and I understand you."

His lips twitched again, this time into a small shy smile that I didn't remember seeing until this point. Slowly, he let my hand go. We lapsed into one of our usual comfortable silence, this time somehow with a more cozy air that felt wonderful. I hated to break that silence.

"I like you," I said softly. _I love you and I miss you,_ I wanted to say. "But…" When I saw a shadow cross his face and he turned away, I talked quickly. "No, hey, this has nothing to do with you. Can you look at me, please?"

With the frown still on his face he stared into my eyes. "Then what," he asked, tone clipped

I bit my lip. We pretty much had this exact conversation in the future. I knew how it went, how he reacted, and I shouldn't be worried.

"It's just… I won't… I know what you might…want…from me down the line-" I cut myself off. "Okay, to this day I still can't do subtlety. What I mean is that…I'm asexual."

His eyebrows knitted together a little. "That means, um, that you can't have sex, right?"

I nodded tensely. "For some people, yes. For me, I don't want to have sex. I just don't have the drive. It's not that I find you unattractive. Quite the opposite. I just…I don't do…lust."

Daryl shook his head slowly at me. "Ain't never seen you this flustered. What're you worried about?" He said it in the exact same way when I first had this talk with him, and it still left me completely breathless. I opened my mouth, but he started speaking again. A look of pure hurt and disgust twisted his face. "What, you think I'm gonna force myself on you?!"

…Well, that wasn't asked the first time we talked about this…

I shook my head quickly. "No, no, god no! What I'm saying is that…well, you're not asexual. Won't it bother you after a while?"

He reclined back again, thoughtful. "Dunno," he murmured. "Only ever had one-night stands. Never a relationship." He snorted. "Pretty certain if I ever needed to, I could go off in private and jerk one out."

I rolled my eyes. "Classy." I got serious again. "I want something with you. Something more. But I don't ever want you to resent us because I won't have sex with you." He scowled and went to protest, but I cut him off. "I want you to promise that you'll think about it."

He scoffed. "Ain't nothin' to think about. I like you. And I'd never hurt you like that."

"You'd be giving up sex," I said flatly.

"And if I said I wouldn't be with you all because of sex, then I'd be giving up you."

Blush blazed my cheeks, but I didn't smile. Looking at the fire, I said, "Promise me you'll think about it?"

I didn't know how much time passed after I asked that question. I lied back down, my eyelids growing heavy. Before falling asleep, I felt his fingers tentatively brush my hand again. I looked up at his calm face; he was still sitting up.

"Promise," he said, with a nod that left me a reassured.

I went to sleep that night with my heart still doing exuberant somersaults.

\-------

We finally found the small herd. We also accidentally scattered the herd.

When we caught up to one of them, we realized we were unlucky. The doe was skittish and extremely fast. Every time Daryl shot at a vital, the deer would spook and move, hitting a non-vital in the process. When we caught up to her for the umpteenth time, Daryl was getting impatient. I snickered at him, raised my bow, and just as I was about to take the shot, she fled again.

"I swear she's psychic," I huffed as we followed the blood trail up the mountain. The doe was going that way naturally, we hardly had to drive her in that direction. I stopped to shoot down a squirrel.

"I swear she's invincible," Daryl grunted as he picked up the squirrel and strung it over his shoulder.

I smirked at him. "Maybe you shouldn't have put so many holes in her."

"You took shots at her, too," he said, lightly tapping my arm with his elbow playfully, but was still frowning grumpily. "Maybe you oughta to tell her not to move so much. Do that stick thing next time we see her."

"And spook her instantly? As if we haven't already been doing that for the last several hours."

We managed to bag some more squirrels along the way. We were still on her trail, she was still bleeding, we just didn't have sight of her yet.

We halted when we heard hollering and ruckus coming from the camp. Daryl and I looked at each other in heavy confusion. No one was screaming in agony, and the other noises sounded like they were all beating a piñata to death. We shrugged, but picked up our pace anyway.

When we climbed around the next ridge, the group came into view.

Rick was among them.


	10. Rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Warning: Lots of insults exchanged between characters.

I observed Rick for a few seconds. Him, as well as everyone else, had weapons readily aimed our way. Everyone was looking in our direction with sheer terror and uncertainty. Rick was, too, but with more curiosity than anything. He seemed much more collected than the rest of the group. Not as combative.

_Give it time_ , I thought sardonically.

As soon as they saw Daryl and I come out from behind the ridge, they all sighed in relief.

"Aw, shit," I grumbled in defeat when I looked down.

Next to a decapitated walker, the doe was lying on the ground, her throat ripped apart.

"Son of a bitch! That's our deer" Daryl exclaimed. "Aw, look at it," he grieved as he circled around to the walker. "All gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearin', motherless, poxy bastard!" He kicked every word he spoke into that walker…literally.

I started yanking our arrows out of what was supposed to be our food supply for next few days. It looked like the city walkers had finally taken up hiking.

"Calm down son, that's not helping," Dale sighed.

"What do you know about it, old man," Daryl rounded on him. "You take that stupid hat and go back to "On Golden Pond"." I tossed him his arrows when he turned around and he smoothly caught them. "We been trackin' this deer for miles," he griped. "Gonna drag it back to camp. Cook us up some venison." After inspecting the damage, he looked at all of us as he took out his knife. "What do you think? Think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"

Shane didn't look amused. "Man, I would not risk that."

"Layla, you done as much huntin' as me and Merle," Daryl said. "What do you think?"

"For once," I shook my head woefully. "I'm agreeing with Shane." I looked down at the deer, then at the walker. I frowned and walked over to its severed head.

"That's a damn shame." Daryl put his knife away, still staring at the deer. He jostled the squirrels draped over his shoulder. "We got some squirrel, though. A little more than a dozen. It'll have to do."

I crouched down beside the head, took out of my knife, and waited. As soon as its eyelids opened and teeth gnashed, I brought my knife down into its forehead.

I chuckled when I heard Amy retching out an "Oh, god!"

Daryl rolled his eyes as the group stared at me with disgust. "Headshots, guys," I told them matter-of-factly.

"I swear, it's like we babysit," Daryl grumbled as he and I waltzed passed everyone to enter the camp.

"They'll grow up eventually," I said with a grin. "If we're the babysitters, what does that make Merle?"

"Merle's the scary story we threaten 'em with if they don't brush their teeth and go to bed," he smirked. I chuckled. "Hey, Merle," he hollered. "Get your ugly ass out here! We got some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up," he said as he set his crossbow aside. I removed my bow from my shoulders.

"Daryl, Layla," Shane said, catching up to us. "Slow up a bit. Need to talk to you." Frowning, I kept a grip on my bow.

"'Bout what," Daryl asked, facing Shane, but still gazing around for Merle.

"There was, uh," Shane muttered. "A problem in Atlanta."

Oh, no…God, no…

Some of the group gathered around Daryl morosely. I stayed off to the side so as not to crowd him further. I watched Daryl. As he looked around at the group, his shoulders drooped ever so slightly.

"He dead," he asked stoically.

Shane looked away for a second. "Not sure."

Anger crept onto his face. "He either is or he ain't!"

Rick stepped forward. "No easy way to say this," he said. "So I'll just say it."

"Who're you," Daryl demanded.

Rick glanced between Daryl and I. "Rick Grimes," he introduced himself.

"Rick Grimes," he drawled mockingly. "You got somethin' you wanna tell us?"

Rick nodded. He kept his voice quick and professional. "Your brother was a danger to us all. So, I handcuffed him to a roof."

For a single second only, Daryl's brows shot to his hairline as he glanced at me. If I blinked, I would've missed it, because he immediately focused on Rick again.

"Hooked him to a piece of metal," Rick continued to say. "He's still there."

Daryl breathed sharply through his nose. His face was reddening with anger, his jaw was tensed, and he had his head dipped threateningly. He looked in my eyes one last time before swiping at his face and turning away. My eyes shut as a lump settled in my stomach.

"Hold on," Daryl was stuttering. "Lemme process this. So you handcuffed my brother to a roof! And you left him there?!"

My eyes snapped open. The rage on Daryl's face was horrific. I wasn't focused on that though. I removed my bow and backpack, and stalked slowly forward, waiting. Daryl didn't notice me. Staring hard at Rick, he started backing up while doing an odd pacing motion at the same time.

That's what I was waiting for.

Daryl lobbed the squirrels at Rick's head to distract him, but Shane was quicker. He slammed into Daryl, sending him to the ground. As soon as I heard the knife unsheathe, as soon as he was standing, I rushed forward. Daryl slashed at Rick once. He didn't get a chance to try for a second.

I forced myself in between them, sending Rick stumbling backwards. I swiftly brought my hand over Daryl's wrist mid-swing, putting his knife to a halt.

"Son a bitch, Layla!" He screamed at me as he took a fraction of a step backwards.

"Back off, Daryl," I said steadily, keeping my hand over his wrist, but not gripping.

"After what they did to Merle," he continued to scream. "He could be dead right now! They oughta get what they deserve!" He yanked his wrist away from me.

"You're outnumbered," I pointed out. "How well do you think that's gonna work out for you?" He snarled under his breath as he glanced at everyone with pure hatred. "And what happens when you kill them, huh? Who's gonna tell you where your brother is? Last I checked, corpses can't talk."

His blue, enraged eyes bored into mine.

I stepped sideways, ignoring the concerned look Rick shot me as I gave Daryl a clear route. I gestured dramatically in Rick's direction. "But by all means," I said. "Kill 'em all. I should've brought popcorn."

Daryl stared Rick down.

Rick shifted on his feet, readying for a fight. "What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," T-Dog spoke up. Son of a bitch, these people were digging holes for themselves. "I had the key. I dropped it."

I looked at him incredulously. "You couldn't pick it up," Daryl and I hollered in unison.

"I…dropped it in a drain," he said admittedly. "But I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him."

"That's gotta count for somethin'," Rick said, keeping his eyes on our faces to gauge us.

I ignored him, picking up my bow and pack while Daryl swiped at his eyes again.

"Hell with all y'all," Daryl shouted, strained and beyond done. "Just tell us where he is, so we can go get him."

"He'll show you," Lori said from the doorway of the RV. "Isn't that right?"

Daryl scoffed loudly. "Nu-uh! Me and Layla don't babysit."

I blinked. He actually wanted me to go with him?!

Rick made eye contact with us. "I'm going back." As soon as he said that, Lori disappeared into the RV. Ah, the drama's already started.

Daryl glared at Rick for a few more seconds. Daryl seemed about ready to start another argument, but then looked at me. "What do you think?"

Still trying to figure out why Daryl wanted me along, I distractedly muttered, "We need to find Merle."

Daryl looked around at everyone. After a snarl and a fast, dismissive hand gesture, he snatched up his crossbow and took off for his tent. I watched him disappear.

I crossed my arms, then uncrossed them, and started to follow him. I planned to see if he wanted to be alone. If not, I needed to talk to him.

"Layla, wait."

I turned around, and then froze. Rick's hand was up in the air, about to come down on my shoulder to stop me. He must've noticed how tense I got because he showed me his palm as a sign of peace.

"Just, wait a minute," he said calmly. "You oughta let Daryl cool off."

"He's right," Shane said. "With him all worked up like that, even I'd think twice about goin' near him."

I glared at them. "It's a good thing I'm the most logical one here, then."

Shane frowned at me. "Ed would disagree."

I flipped him off and left them.

Daryl was sitting by his and Merle's tents, doing maintenance on his crossbow. I breezed past him to toss my pack in my tent, keeping my bow around my shoulders. I sat down and observed him. Every now and then, his hand would slip or stutter and he'd hiss out a curse. It didn't help that he was distracted, constantly glancing at Merle's tent as if he would pop out any moment.

"You were right," Daryl said without looking at me.

I leaned back further in my chair. "'I told you so' is not my style." I thumbed my bow. "Ready when you are." When Daryl didn't say anything for a while, I chose to continue. "Why take me along?"

He scowled. "What kinda stupid question is that?"

"I knew what was gonna happen to your brother. I knew it was gonna happen eventually. And I wasn't able to do a damn thing about it."

He stopped, staring at his crossbow. Slowly, he shook his head and looked at me. "This ain't on you," he said.

I narrowed my eyes. "How so?"

"Were you the one who handcuffed him to a roof," he asked scathingly. Exhaling, I shook my head. "I'm pissed," he spat. "I'm pissed that a walker ate our deer. I'm pissed that these assholes only care 'bout themselves. I'm pissed that my brother's gone!" Abruptly, he stood up and slung his crossbow on.

He stared at me, waiting. The anger was definitely still there, but it wasn't directed at me. Still, I couldn't help but look away. Not out of fear, but out of shame. No, Merle was not my favorite person in the world, but Daryl was. And I'd clearly failed him.

A hand appeared in my vision and hovered there. Waiting.

I didn't care that Daryl said it wasn't my fault. It felt like it was. Hopefully, I'd get the chance to make things right.

I nodded and took his hand, letting him pull me to feet. "And I'm pissed that I never believed you," he said quietly. Giving my hand a final squeeze, he dropped it and we headed over towards the others. They were all sitting near the RV, and Shane was throwing another hissy fit.

"-risk your life for a douche bag like Merle," he was saying to Rick.

"I see we're all digging holes for ourselves today," I said with a strained grin.

"Choose your words more carefully," Daryl snarled at him.

Shane's reply was conversational. "Oh, no, I did. Douche bag's what I meant. Merle Dixon," he huffed. "Guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin' of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," Rick said evenly. "I can't let a man die of thirst. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap."

I squirmed slightly, all too sympathetic to the feeling. Daryl stepped closer to me. I looked at him, but he didn't acknowledge me or the movement he made, continuing to stare at Shane and Rick.

After a second, Daryl shook his head scornfully and we both headed over to the fire ring. We sat down and he started cleaning off his bolts with a rag. I could tell he was deliberately trying to ignore everyone, anxious to hit the road already.

"So," Lori said to Rick with a look of concern she didn't try to hide. "You, Daryl, and Layla? That's your big plan?" Was it sad that I never took offense to comments like that?

Rick swept his gaze around the camp until he settled on Glenn.

"Oh, come on," Glenn whined with a grimace.

"You know the way," Rick said. "You've been there before. In and out, no problem, you said so yourself." Glenn tried to look away. "It's not fair of me to ask-"

"Damn right, it's not," I spoke up. "Him and the others had just been on a run for how many hours? They're probably exhausted. You'll be fine with just me and Daryl."

"The run was yesterday," Rick said to me patiently. He kept my gaze, analyzing me. I stared right back. After a few seconds, he looked away, back to Glenn. "Safety in numbers. I'd feel a lot better with you along." He nodded at Lori. "I know she would, too."

"That's just great," Shane huffed. "You're gonna risk the four of you."

"Five," T-Dog announced.

Daryl scoffed. "Our day just gets better and better, don't it?"

"You see anybody else here steppin' up to save your brother's cracker ass? And Layla don't count 'cause she's the only one who can actually shut down his bullshit."

"So, why you," Daryl asked, cleaning his bolts more harshly now.

"You wouldn't even begin to understand," T-Dog responded. "You don't speak my language."

"That's five," Dale observed.

"It's not just five," Shane barked. "You're puttin' every single one of us at risk, just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that walker," he exclaimed. I felt my eyes narrow as he spoke frantically. "It was here. It was in camp! They're movin' outa the cities. They come back, we need every able body we got. Layla's our scouter. All she did was leave for two days, and then a walker snuck up on us. We need people here. We need 'em to protect camp!"

Rick nodded calmly. "Seems to me what you really need most here…are more guns."

"Right," Glenn breathed. "The guns."

Shane glanced rapidly between them with interest. "Wait, what guns?"

Rick broke it down. "Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns." Shane straightened up a little as he spoke. "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It's just sittin' there on the street, waitin' to be picked up."

After he listed off the ammo, I couldn't help but be impressed. I wasn't a fan of guns as a whole, but, damn, all of it could be useful. As soon as Lori started to kick up some drama, I tuned them out and started taking inventory. My bow, several arrows, and my knife. Daryl handed me a rag when he saw me take out my knife. By the time I was done cleaning my weapons, everyone started to disperse.

Disdain made its way onto Daryl's face as Rick approached. "We're headin' out," he said. "We're takin' that white box truck, er, cube van, whatever you wanna call it."

I looked at Daryl. "We could always take Merle's motorcycle," I suggested. "Follow 'em from behind."

Rick was shaking his head. "I'd feel better if we were all in the same vehicle together."

"Damn," I hissed under my breath. I hadn't ridden a bike in ages.

"Load up anything you think you'll need into the truck."

Daryl and I exchanged a look and a shrug. "We're ready whenever you are," I told Rick.

Daryl stood up, causing Rick to jump back ever so slightly.

"Preferably now," Daryl growled. "Coulda be on the road ages ago." He knocked his shoulder into Rick's as he made for the truck.

Rick stopped me before I could follow. "We're goin' into Atlanta," he explained. "Walkers everywhere. You guys'll need more than just your bows and arrows."

"We got our knives," I smirked sarcastically. "Daryl's got his gun on him…somewhere. Either or, we tend to make do with just our bows."

Rick flexed his jaw. "I can find you a gun to loan. Shane's probably got a spare."

"I've got a gun, but it's useless to bring it. One gunshot, walkers everywhere, and then we'll never get out of that city. And quite frankly, I don't care about your bag of guns." I stepped around him.

Daryl had opened the overhead door of the truck and was inside leaning against the walls, leg bouncing impatiently. I hauled myself up and sat on the edge, letting my feet dangle. I was about say something of comfort, but my words died as I looked around the inside of the truck.

I shook my head stubbornly.

"What," Daryl asked.

"Nothing," I murmured. "It's…cars and…Well, you know."

His eyebrows scrunched. "No, I don't."

I scolded myself harshly. Man, I was stupid. Out of all things we'd talked about, out of all the things we'd admitted to each other, how the hell could I had forgotten to tell him about my PTSD? Why the hell did I assume he already knew?

I looked around the camp for any potential eavesdroppers. Looking at Daryl again, I kept my voice low. "I'll tell you more later, but…I'm really not a fan of cars."

He frowned and searched my face, and I suddenly felt way too self-conscious. "We can still convince 'em to let us take the bike," he offered.

"God, I would love that," I exhaled with a smile. "But I only now just remembered that a bike only seats two people. We need to bring Merle back. So, unless you got a sidecar hidden in those saddlebags…" I trailed off as I stood up. I went over and leaned against the wall beside him. He was still searching my face. "I'll be fine," I said solidly. "I can deal with it. Just worry about Merle."

He shook his head at me, but let the matter drop when Glenn opened the driver's side and hopped in. Further up the camp, we could hear Rick, Jim, and Dale talking, sounding as if they were negotiating something. Daryl huffed impatiently, swung his leg around the driver's seat, and stamped on the horn.

"Come on, let's go," he shouted at them.

As soon as he said that, T-Dog jumped in to join us. Rick and Shane hung out by the back, Shane trying to convince him to take ammo.

"Layla's right," Rick shook his head. "Guns aren't the best idea. I'm not sure I'd wanna fire a shot in the city, not after what happened last time." I stopped listening to the rest of their conversation because I'd never ever heard Rick admit that I was right about something. How interesting.

The engine roared loudly to life. As soon as the overhead door slammed shut, I sunk to the floor. I curled my knees to my chest, stared at the opposite wall, and tried not to think about my heart speeding up. I was only vaguely aware of Daryl taking a seat beside me. I crossed my arms, trying to hide my hands in case they started to shake. God, I wish I'd been smart enough to bring my iPod.

"Hey," I hollered at Rick and Glenn. "There any AC/DC albums in this rust bucket?"

"No offense, Layla," T-Dog said. "I'd rather not listen to any music right now. Wanna stay focused."

I simply nodded my head and stared at the opposite wall again. Thankfully, it wasn't too horrible of a ride, with the engine just loud enough to drown out the demons partying in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, brought my knees impossibly closer, and tried to focus on only the engine.

I didn't know how much time passed before I felt something press against my side. I tensed so quickly I heard my shoulders pop. My fists clenched and my eyes flew open. As soon as I saw it was Daryl, I immediately relaxed.

For some reason, the side of his body was now pressed against the side of mine. Had we hit a bump and he knocked into me? I was about to shift away to give him room. Then, I realized that he wasn't complaining, much less moving away.

Daryl noticed me staring at him.

"I said to worry about Merle," I whispered so the others didn't hear. "Not me."

"Multitaskin'," he whispered back with a casual shrug.

I chuckled quietly. 'Thank you,' I mouthed, and practically melted into his side.

He half-smiled at me before turning serious again. "He better be okay," he snarled at T-Dog. "It's my only word on the matter."

"I told you," T-Dog said tiredly. "The geeks can't get at him. Only thing that's gonna get through that door is us." T-Dog looked away to gaze out the windshield, and I only now noticed the split lip and bruising on his face. He didn't say anything or indicate that he noticed our closeness. Honestly, though, it wasn't like were full-on hugging or cuddling. So we probably looked at least a little inconspicuous. That, or T-Dog was being polite to not point it out.

"We walk from here," I heard Glenn say as he cut the engine. As soon as he did so, Daryl was up and opening the truck. I jumped out right behind him, deeply inhaling the outside air to clear my head.

We walked along sets of train tracks, headed for the city. As soon as Atlanta came into view, everyone tightened their hold on their weapons. I still had yet to remove my bow from my shoulders. We silently followed Glenn's lead. Everyone was rapidly looking around every street and alleyway we passed, searching for any hidden walkers. Me? I wasn't looking around. I kept my eyes forward and simply listened.

A snarl came from up ahead. The group froze on the spot and readied themselves, but I kept going. I walked around and ahead of them, ignoring Rick hissing my name. Another alleyway was coming up on my left, and out of it stumbled two walkers. Whipping out my knife, I stabbed them both and let them drop.

No more snarling.

Everyone was staring at me with mildly horrified expressions. "You can usually hear them long before you see them," I said. "Glenn?"

"Right, yeah, um," Glenn shook his head, and started leading us again.

Daryl was snickering. "Y'all should your faces."

I smirked at him and waited for everyone to pass me so I could fall in step from behind again. "Could you go up by Glenn, Layla," Rick asked me. "Watch his back 'til we get to the department store."

I raised a brow at him. After nodding hesitantly, I jogged until I was following Glenn from behind him.

I always got antsy when I was at or near the front of a crowd. I could always feel when multiple eyes were on me and it was unsettling. Also, I had a habit of doing my own thing and randomly changing tactics, resulting in irritable, unprepared people. I normally brought up the rear. I could see the group in front of me, allowing me to react accordingly in case someone needed back up. Also, staying at the back motivated me to play follow-the-leader instead of being tempted to go on my own side quests…most of time.

A few more streets down and with a few more walkers killed in our wake, we finally reached the department store. As soon as we did, Rick jogged ahead us and slowly opened the front door. When we got inside, there was one walker towards the back.

Rick glanced at Daryl expectantly.

Daryl weaved between the shelves to get a better view. "Ugly skank," he mumbled as he pulled the trigger of the crossbow. When the walker dropped, he hurried back to us. "Where's this damn roof? Let's get a move on!"

Rick nodded and led us further into the store. As soon as the stairs came into view, we all picked up our pace to a run, practically taking the stairs two steps at a time. When we reached the top, T-Dog cut the chain and Daryl nearly kicked down the door.

"Merle! Merle!" Daryl hollered as he raced outside. Suddenly, he started screaming, "No! No!" over and over again.

Infuriatingly, everyone in front of me froze. I curved around them to rush over to Daryl and help him.

I froze, too.

Bloodied handcuffs, bloodied hacksaw, bloodied roof…and a bloodied severed hand was all that remained of Merle Dixon.


	11. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Warning: Lots of insults exchanged between characters.

Tears brimmed around Daryl's eyes.

He yelled wordlessly. Whirling around, he aimed his crossbow inches from T-Dog's face. Rick's gun came up almost the same time, pointed directly at Daryl's temple. I removed my bow with one hand and kept my other hand on the arrows tucked in my belt. Although, I highly doubted anyone was going to shed more blood.

"I won't hesitate," Rick said in a low voice. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

The crossbow trembled in his hands. Blinking hard, Daryl finally lowered it. "You got a…" Daryl sniffed, still staring at T-Dog, but with less hostility. "Got a dew rag or somethin'?"

I put my bow back around my shoulders and focused on the blood again. The puddles and drops glinted brilliant crimson against the beating sunlight. I saw that there were drops leading away from the main area.

I wanted to comfort Daryl, but I also knew he probably wouldn't want any public display of affection, especially with how vulnerable he must already feel. Instead, I started following the trail that Merle had left behind. Turning a corner, I came up to another opened door on the roof. My nose scrunched as the smell of burnt flesh hit me. I knew that smell all too well for too many reasons.

I opened my mouth and chirped.

Only a second later, I felt Daryl and the rest of them come up behind me. I stepped back to allow them through.

We were now in some form of an office building. Everyone fanned out, with Daryl hollering Merle's name every few moments. Everyone was searching around corners randomly, but I kept my nose out for the burning smell and trailed after it. Daryl caught on before the others and fell into step beside me.

We came around a corner to find two walker bodies. I regarded them for a mere second and then continued on.

"Had enough in him to take out these two son of a bitches," Daryl stopped and observed. "One handed."

_Not an easy thing to do_ , I added silently from a doorway that led into a kitchen area. The smell was horrific now, probably right around the corner, but I waited for them to catch up. These hallways were practically a maze.

"Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother," Daryl continued as he reloaded his crossbow. "Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails. Only one that can best him is Layla."

"Layla and Rick," Glenn corrected. "T-Dog may have dropped the key, but Rick was the one who brought him down and handcuffed him."

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "Y'all probably helped him. Merle and Layla are tougher than any of you pricks." I felt my cheeks redden at that and had to work hard to keep a grin at bay.

"Anyone can pass out from blood loss," Rick countered as they started walking again. "No matter how tough they are."

As soon as we entered the kitchen, the stench hit me full force. Too many memories flashed in my mind: The prison burning, Terminus, amputating my own arm, and so much more. I suppressed a shiver, turned the burners off, and walked a couple feet away. I leaned against the wall, letting my head fall back against it.

Merle cauterized the wound. Which meant no more blood trail to follow.

"What's that burnt stuff," Glenn asked naively.

"Skin," Rick said as he held up a piece of metal. "He cauterized the stump."

"Told you he was tough," Daryl said. "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle.

"Don't take that on faith. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah," Daryl said as he went over to a window. "Didn't stop him from bustin' outa this deathtrap."

"He left the building," Glenn said incredulously.

I tuned them out, trying to remember all the stories Daryl ever told me about Merle. Let's see…He gets handcuffed to a roof, he cuts off his own hand at some point, he ends up in Woodbury…

Come on! I had to be missing something! That couldn't be it. Could it?

Daryl's voice had risen harshly at that point. "No worse than bein' handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks!" He faced Rick. "You couldn't kill him. I ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."

"How about a thousand dumb dead bastards," Rick said. "Different story?"

"Why don'tcha take a tally. Do what you want. I'ma go get him."

"I can move through Atlanta easily," I spoke up. "Between you and me, we should be able to track some trace of him."

He nodded at me. "Let's go, then."

Rick put his hand out. "Daryl, wait-"

"Get your hands off me," Daryl shouted as he was pushed back. "You can't stop me!"

"I don't blame you two. He's family. I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel." He held Daryl's gaze stubbornly. "He can't get far with that injury. We can help you check a few blocks around, but only if we keep a level head."

Daryl flexed his jaw. "I can do that."

Rick glanced at me.

I nodded at him, but I wasn't going to be thrilled if these guys slowed us down in the streets.

"Only if we get those guns first," T-Dog spoke up. "I'm not strollin' the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions. Okay?"

Rick nodded. "So, how do we wanna do this?"

"Whereabouts did you drop the guns," I asked.

"There's a tank in the middle of the street, not too far from here. I dropped 'em right by it."

I hummed. "What we need is a map, and then strategize from there. There's bound to be one somewhere around here."

We gathered around in a small office after coming up short. Glenn, being the mastermind that he was, grabbed a sharpie, sat down, and started drawing a rudimentary map on the tile floor.

"Given where we are, and where the guns are," Glenn explained as he drew. "I should be able to get the bag myself. I'm just drawing this out to be sure."

"Alone," T-Dog asked worriedly.

"Yeah, should be simple." Glenn stopped drawing and sat back a little to check his handiwork. "That should be good."

"You're not doin' this alone," Rick argued.

"Even I think it's a bad idea, and I don't even like you much," Daryl said.

"It's a good idea, okay. If you'll just hear me out."

Rick crouched down in front of Glenn to stare at the map.

"If we go out there in a group, we're slow, drawing attention. If I'm alone, I can move fast. Look," Glenn said as he got a large paperclip and a paper ball. "There's the tank, five blocks from where we are now…And that's the bag of guns…There's the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That's where Layla and I will go."

"Why Layla," Rick asked.

"Her bow is quieter than your gun," Glenn said.

I tilted my head. "Or how about I go alone while you cover me." I didn't give a reason aloud, but I'd yet to see this Glenn in action, and he struck me as uncoordinated.

"Not without me, you ain't," Daryl said stubbornly.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Glenn huffed. "Then that's two people going after the guns instead of one. It needs to be one. Me. You got my back?"

I nodded, still unsure of this plan.

After a solid second, Glenn looked at Daryl and said, "And you, too? In case something happens with either of you?"

Daryl looked away from him, but nodded.

Glenn marked another spot with another piece of office debris. "While Layla and Daryl wait here in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag!"

Rick looked skeptical. "But you got us elsewhere?"

"You and T-Dog, right," Glenn nodded. He marked another spot "You'll be in this alley here."

"Two blocks away? Why?"

"I may not be able to come back the same way."

I couldn't help but smile. I still didn't think he was coordinated for this, but it was good to see he was still a hell of a good planner this early on the game.

"Whichever direction I go," Glenn concluded. "I got you in both places to cover me. Afterwards, we'll all meet back here."

"Hey, kid," Daryl asked. "What'd you do before all this?"

" _Delivered pizzas_ ," I remembered him telling me once. I grinned amusedly.

"Delivered pizzas," he responded with slight confusion. "Why?"

I chuckled at everyone's bemused faces. "What," T-Dog asked as they all looked at me.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "Come on, let's go get these guns. I think there's a fire escape through that exit."

We all separated, going to our respective alleys.

We followed Glenn down a fire escape ladder and jumped down onto the pavement. Getting to the end of the alley, Glenn crouched slightly and bounced readily on his feet.

"You got some balls for a Chinaman," Daryl said.

"Dude," I grumbled at him. "Don't pull a Merle."

"I'm Korean," Glenn corrected him.

"Whatever," Daryl sighed as he loaded up his crossbow. I rolled my eyes.

Without much of a warning, Glenn took off out of the alley. Daryl hung back behind some dumpsters, doing his best to watch Glenn's every move from that angle. I was about to consider leaving and ducking into a second alley to make another possible exit for Glenn when movement caught my peripheral.

I swiftly dropped down beside Daryl.

'What,' he mouthed at me.

I put a finger to my lips. Making sure my bow was secure around my shoulders, I quietly took out my knife. I pointed vaguely down the alley and shook my head slowly at him.

Daryl nodded and clutched his crossbow closer.

The footsteps that were coming got slower and slower, more cautious. Whoever this was was smart enough to know when something or someone was lurking around a corner.

Suddenly, Daryl jumped out of our hiding spot to face off with him. There was an echo when I let my head fall back against the dumpster in exasperation. Sighing heavily, I tightened my grip on my knife and slowly stood.

"Whoa, whoa," the boy exclaimed, as he held his hands up. He couldn't have been more than sixteen-ish. "Don't shoot me," he begged. "What do you want?"

"Lookin' for my brother," Daryl said in a surprisingly even tone. "He's hurt real bad. You seen him?"

That's when he started shouting ' _Ayudame_ ' at the top of his lungs. Great.

Daryl was done playing nice. "Shut up! You'll bring the geeks down on us. Answer me!"

I glanced out at the street. Everything was still going as smooth as it could for Glenn.

" _Ayudame_!"

The walkers outside the alley were now getting riled.

"Listen," I hissed at the boy as I joined Daryl's side. I put my knife away, hoping that one less weapon would calm him down some. "You need to keep it zipped otherwise you'll get us all killed. You don't wanna know what it's like getting eaten by those bastards."

" _Ayudame_ ," he continued frantically, trying to search behind us.

Bashing him across the face with the crossbow, Daryl got him on the ground and tried to cover his mouth. I was torn between trying to diffuse this bitch of a situation, and helping Glenn out. With a growl, I went to look out the alley to keep an eye on Glenn when two more guys appeared.

I went after them when they sped passed me to get to Daryl. The skinnier of the two only got one swing in with his baseball bat when I slammed myself against his midsection. He fell to the ground with a surprised yelp.

The larger one hoisted me up by the front of my shirt to slam me against the wall. Before the skinnier one could take a swing at me, Daryl dragged him to the ground. I flung my foot out to kick the guy's legs to at least get him to let me go. He stumbled backwards, dropping me in the process, but then he ran forward again. I stepped sideways, kicked a trashcan between us, and watched him tumble.

I looked up to see that asshole swinging his bat at Daryl again and again. With a wordless, enraged cry, I tried rushing him again, only to knock my chin off the pavement as the other guy grabbed and dug his nails into my ankle.

"Motherfucker," I screeched as I kicked at him.

Suddenly, he started to get up, exclaiming, "There it is! That's the bag!"

He gave me one last kick in the ribs and took off down the alley. Ignoring the aches in my face and sides, I ran over, grabbed the skinnier guy by the back of his shirt off of Daryl, and swung him down against the side of a dumpster. Then, he was up and running.

I kneeled by Daryl's side, about to help him up when I heard Glenn shrieking painfully. The men had Glenn on the ground and were throwing kicks at him.

"Glenn," I screamed as I tried to help Daryl to his feet.

"Go on," Daryl exclaimed hoarsely, batting me away. "I'm alright!"

"Son of fucking bitch," I snapped in anger. After putting my knife securely in Daryl's grip, I ran down the alley.

Once again using my full body weight, I used the side of my body to shove the skinnier guy flush against the chain link fencing. I twisted his arm at a horrible angle and the bat clattered to the ground. I heard the crossbow go off, and the larger guy staggered and screamed in agony.

His screams were drowned out by tires screeching. The larger guy snatched up Glenn and started dragging him away as he yelled for us to help him. The skinnier guy shuffled and then flung me backwards on the ground. He went to grab for the bag of guns. I lunged forward, grabbed the bag by the strap and tossed it somewhere behind me.

"You fucking god damn piece of…!" I shouted numerous curses as the guy wrapped his arms around my neck and chest and started dragging me to the car to join Glenn.

On the one hand, allowing myself to be captured meant that I would be with Glenn and that I'd know whether he was safe or not. And I'd be on the inside of wherever they were taking us. On the other hand, I was beginning to go haywire on the inside.

_Being dragged. Arms around me. A car door open and waiting for me._

Another image flashed through my mind.

_The skinnier guy beating Daryl with the bat._

I slammed my eyes shut, heart accelerating painfully as these images stacked on top of each other. I could've twisted out of his grip. I could've elbowed him in the balls. I could've-

With a feral snarl that almost ripped my throat apart, I bit down. The guy's scream pierced my ear, but even as blood rushed down my chin, I didn't let go. I couldn't let go. My mind had dove into a haze, almost now blank.

Getting clocked on the back of the head and slammed down onto the pavement brought me back. I let his arm go and disgustedly spat out his blood.

With that, the men had disappeared, screeching down the road. With Glenn.

"Motherfuckers!" I shouted after them as walkers swarmed around me.

"Layla!" I heard Daryl screaming

I turned around to face the chain link. "Close the gate!"

Daryl crashed to a halt against the fence, holding the gate ajar for me. "I ain't fuckin' closin'-"

"Just do it, god damn it!" I started climbing over the panel of fencing in front of me.

With a snarl, he slammed the gate close.

"I am not," I huffed as a walker almost snagged my foot. "gonna die up against a fence with walkers again!"

When I was at the top, I swung my leg over and kept my knees bent to cushion my fall as I slid down the side.

"Get back here," Daryl was shouting out at the city. "Get back here, you fuckers!"

As soon as I landed beside him, I gripped the bag of guns and got ready to make a run for it.

Footsteps rang out, the teenage boy trying to make a break for…There were walkers at one end of the alley and a dead end at the other. Where the hell was he going to go?!

As soon as Daryl heard him, he stumbled forward to have a go at him. Rick appeared out of nowhere and forced Daryl back. "I'm gonna kick your nuts up in your throat," Daryl shouted at the boy.

T-Dog trapped the boy against the wall and steadily held him there.

"They took Glenn, guys," I told them.

"And he almost got us killed," Daryl shouted. "This little bastard and his little bastard homie friends! I'm gonna stomp your ass!"

T-Dog was frantic. "Guys, guys! We're cut off!"

Rick took a quick glance around and said, "Get to the ladder! Go!"

Daryl and I raced after T-Dog and the boy, with Rick close on our heels. The boy was kicking and screaming as T-Dog more or less had to shove him up the ladder, but we all got up there safely.

As soon as we were in the office building, I dropped the bag of guns down heavily and put my hands on my knees. In comparison to the guys, I didn't have much arm strength, so carrying the bag of guns up the side of a building was not the best idea in hindsight.

As I struggled to catch my breath, I vaguely heard T-Dog muttering to the boy, "You need to stay there."

"Son a bitch," the boy muttered fearfully.

Suddenly, my knife appeared in my vision. I took it from Daryl as he squatted down in front of me.

"Are you…okay," I huffed.

He nodded. He was squinting and seemed as though his was peering at the inside of my mouth. "They knock out a tooth," he asked. "There's blood everywhere."

I shook my head with a frown. "I bit the…guy with the baseball bat."

"No shit," he chuckled.

My frown deepened. "I'm not…proud of it."

"You did what you had to do."

I glanced away, and then remembered something. Looking at him, I asked, "Did you…Did you shoot the bigger guy in the ass with an arrow?" He nodded. I tried to chuckle, but couldn't because it hurt to laugh. With one last exhale, I straightened up.

"Those men you were with," Rick was talking to the boy. "We need to know where they went."

The boy shook his head. "I ain't telling you nothing."

"Jesus," T-Dog huffed as he looked at Daryl and I. "What the hell happened back there?"

Daryl stormed over to them. "This little turd and his douche bag friends came outa nowhere and jumped us."

"Man, you're the ones who jumped me. Screaming about tryin' to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn. Coulda taken Merle, too!"

"Merle," the boy scoffed. "What kinda hick name is that? Wouldn't name my dog Merle."

I sprinted towards them when Daryl tried throw a kick at him, but got stopped by Rick. "Everybody's digging damn holes for themselves," I huffed as I came to a stop in front of the boy. "You got a name?"

He scoffed again.

"If you won't talk to anyone, how're we supposed to get shit done?"

"If I wanted to talk to anyone, I sure as hell wouldn't talk to you," he snapped at me, and I could hear Daryl pacing right behind me as his voice rose. "Have you seen your face? I'm getting rabies just looking at you."

"That's foaming at the mouth, not bleeding at the mouth." Then, I scowled incredulously. "We are how many months in to the apocalypse and you're acting like a pussy 'cause of all this blood? Priorities, man."

"I'll give him 'priorities'," Daryl grumbled as he suddenly went over to Glenn's backpack. He took out a rag, unraveled whatever was bundled inside, and dropped it on the boy's lap.

The boy gasped and shrieked, struggling out of his chair to get away from Merle's severed hand.

"That's what happened to the last guy that pissed me off," Daryl snarled as he got in his face and gripped his shirt. "We'll start with the feet this time."

Rick jerked Daryl away, and I stepped in between Daryl and Rick to keep him back until he calmed down.

"The men you were with took our friend," Rick said evenly. "All we wanna do is talk to them. See if we can work something out. Now what's your name? Let's start with that."

He looked around at us fearfully before muttering, "Miguel."

"Miguel," Rick said. "We need to know where our friend is. And I imagine you wanna go home."

Miguel glanced away thoughtfully. Then, he nodded.

"Can you lead the way," Rick asked.

He nodded again and stood up hesitantly. Daryl grumbled a complaint.

Rick looked at me. "As soon as we're in the street," he said. "I want you to cover Miguel. Keep his path clear." He looked at Daryl, about to ask him something, when Miguel interrupted.

"You ain't putting that animal near me," he growled. "Hell no."

I raised a brow, glancing at everyone. "Is he exaggerating, or is there really that much blood?"

T-Dog winced while Daryl simply shrugged.

Rick kept up a professional front. "When we go there, we'll be making a first impression. You oughta wipe off as much as you can."

"I guess," I shrugged. "Who's got a rag?"

Daryl pulled one out of his pocket. Using a window as a mirror, I splashed some water from one of the guys' canteens on the rag and started. Miguel wasn't exaggerating. The lower half of my face, my neck, and the front of my shirt were covered in the other guy's blood.

"Can't do much about the shirt," I said to them when I was done.

"At least it no longer looks like you resorted to vampirism," T-Dog quipped.

"Layla, you're in the lead. Miguel, you give her directions," Rick ordered. "Daryl, you bring up the rear. Me and T-Dog will keep to the middle. Let's move out."

We went down one more flight of stairs. Beyond the door at the bottom of the staircase were the streets of Atlanta. I stepped in front of Miguel to crack open the door. Aside from some dead bodies, the street was clear. I made eye contact with everyone and nodded at the door.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on," Miguel stuttered. "Aren't you gonna ready your bow or take out your knife or something?"

"Not until I need them," I shook my head. "I always go hands-free when I can help it, in case I need to climb or grab onto something."

Miguel looked at Rick in terror. "You're seriously trusting this _puta_ not to get any of us killed?!"

Rick looked exasperated. "Layla, could you at least take out your knife?"

Grinning maniacally, I said, "Nope!" And I opened the door.

We kept up a swift pace through the streets. Every time I heard or saw evidence of any walkers, I simply gave a waving signal for them to slow down while I sped up to dispatch them. The only time we would actually come to a stop was when we were coming around a bigger corner and needed to be extra cautious. Bigger street sometimes meant bigger walker crowds. Thankfully, we didn't run into anything like that.

Miguel curtly gave me directions as we went, until we came upon a dilapidated brick building that looked more like ancient ruins. Just beyond the ruins was another brick building with large wooden gates.

"This it," I asked.

Miguel nodded at the wooden doors. "Just over there."

Miguel chose that moment to make a break for the doors. He only got a few feet.

"Whoa, easy now," I said as I grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back. I nearly shoved him into Daryl, who had rushed forward in case he needed to back me up. I looked Daryl in the eyes, and held a hand up to tell him it was okay.

"You said I could go back," Miguel shouted.

"Keep it down, damn it," I hissed. "Are you crazy? Your people stole one of ours. They're gonna be on high alert. They're probably thinking we'll attack. If you go running up to those gates like a lunatic, your own people might accidentally shoot you. Use your damn head."

"You said I could go back," he repeated through gritted teeth.

"And you will, but not until we work this shit out," I said. "You gonna cooperate? Or do we need to go back to the office building and start all over?"

Miguel tried to pace a little, but Daryl body-blocked him. After glancing rapidly between me and Daryl, he buried his face in his hands with a pitiful groan.

I looked at everyone. "Next step is to talk to these people."

"How do you suppose we do that without gunfire," Daryl asked.

"Hopefully, they can be reasoned with," Rick said.

"And maybe they can't be," T-Dog muttered. "What happens when shit goes down?"

" _If_ it goes down," I said.

"It already has," Daryl muttered. "We got mugged in an alley and they stole Glenn."

I nodded at what he said. "Okay…If we stroll up to those gates without some sort of Plan B we may as well be sitting ducks from the start."

"I'll be the Plan B," T-Dog offered. "I should be able to get on top of one of these roofs and keep an eye on things from up there. And I'll take the guns with me. Keep 'em safe."

"You sure you're up for this," Rick asked T-Dog as he took out one of the guns and loaded it.

He nodded solidly. "Yeah." On that note, he took the guns and headed for access to one of the roofs.

Rick looked at me, twitching the gun in his hands. "You ever fire one of these before?"

"Yes," I said with an anticipatory grin.

"We need to make a statement," Rick said. "If I give this to you, will you at least hold it?"

My grin widened. "Nope!"

Rick sighed in defeat.

"Crazy _puta_ ," Miguel grumbled.

"Hey," Daryl snapped, jostling his crossbow threateningly. "I hear you mouth off to her one more time, you're gettin' an arrow in the ass."

Miguel was shaking his head at Daryl. "And G's gonna take that arrow out of my ass, and shove it up yours."

"G," Rick said.

"Guillermo. He the man here."

"Okay, then," Rick nodded. "Let's go see Guillermo."

We ducked through the ruins and cautiously approached the gates. Daryl and Rick had their weapons raised. I kept my bow around my shoulders, but at least placed my hand over my knife holstered in my belt.

The gates slid open before us, and out stepped a man, who I presumed was G.

"You okay, little man," he asked Miguel. G's stature was tall, professional, and unwavering.

He whimpered. "They're gonna cut off my feet, _carnal_."

G scowled at Rick. "Cops do that?"

"Not him," Miguel shook his head. "This redneck _puto_ here. He cut off some dude's hand, man! He showed it me!"

"Shut up," Daryl growled.

"Hey," a voice rang out. The bigger guy from the alley stomped out of the building. "That's that _vato_ right there, _home_ ," he said, pointing at Daryl. My grip on my knife tightened. "Shot me in the ass with an arrow, man! And that _puta_ was the one who bit Jorge!" He shouted some more profanity at us, and I stepped forward slightly when he took out a gun.

"Chill, ese, chill," G put his hand on his arm, and he lowered his gun submissively. "Chill," G said to him in finality. He kept his eyes on Rick. "It's true? He wants Miguelito's feet? That's pretty sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion," Rick said. I scoffed quietly at those words. Rick and Daryl were the only ones here with raised weapons.

G narrowed his eyes. "That hillbilly jumps Felipe's little cousin. Beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet. Felipe gets an arrow in the ass, and Jorge was nearly bitten to death and…you want a calm discussion? You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment," Rick shrugged slightly. "Mistakes were made on both sides."

G nodded at Daryl and I. "Who're they to you anyway? No one looks related."

"They're part of our group, more or less," Rick answered. "I'm sure you have a few like Daryl."

Daryl shuffled defensively, grip tightening on his crossbow. "You got my brother in there?"

"Sorry, fresh outa white boys. But I got Asian. Interested?"

"I have one of yours," Rick said slowly. "You have one of mine. Sounds like an even trade."

"Don't sound even to me."

Miguel whimpered again, more desperately. "G…Come on, man."

G ignored Miguel. "My people got attacked. Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? We've used more sutures today than we have in a long time. Felipe's already recovering, but Jorge's bite wound was so bad he nearly bled out." His eyes fell on me. "On top of it all, we thought he'd been bit by one of those monsters. Half of my people wanted to lay him to rest right there, and the other half had to protect him while he tried to explain to us that he was bit by some _chica_ instead." While he talked, I forced stoicism, resisting the urge to flinch at his words.

G looked at Rick again. "Aside from the fact that two of my people could've died today at the hands of your people…Where's my bag of guns?"

"Guns," Rick tried and failed to act confused.

G nodded. "The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken."

"I don't think so."

"About it being yours," Rick corrected smoothly. "It's my bag of guns."

"The bag was in the street," G countered. "Anybody could come around and say it was there's. I'm supposed to take your word? What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now, and I take what's mine?"

"You could do that," Rick said, gazing up at the top of a building. T-Dog, as promised, had stationed himself on a roof, scope aimed down at G and his people. "Or not."

Calmly, G shouted upwards. I gnashed my teeth together.

On top of their building, two of G's people were taking a sack off of Glenn's head, practically dangling him over us.

"I see two options," G supplied. In that moment, my jaw relaxed, and I let my hand fall off my knife's hilt. I took my focus off Glenn, and put it all on G. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded. We'll see which side spills more blood."

I tilted my head curiously. Not once during this conversation with this guy had I heard any animosity in his voice. And everything he told us had some form of reasoning behind it, even if certain things weren't completely true. However, most importantly, when he threatened violence, his unmoving demeanor changed. He became more animated, making hand and head gestures in a semi-dramatic manner. It was as if he suddenly remembered that he had to play the part of merciless leader.

Now calm as can be, G spared T-Dog and us one last glance before he and the rest of his people disappeared inside the building. Daryl paced apprehensively, crossbow aimed at the doors until they shut. I shook my head and paced as well, specifically around the perimeter of the ruins.

Rick had offered an even trade. G clearly cared about Miguel, so why not take the deal? Why would the guns be that freaking important?

I paced the perimeter more anxiously. Something about the area we were in seemed familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't even know what I was searching for to be honest. All I knew was that G and his people were keeping up a tough act. I had no doubt they could back it up, but I could also tell they genuinely didn't want it to get to that.

"Layla," Rick called and I snapped my gaze to him. "We're movin' out."

Gazing around once more, I huffed in annoyance and went to join them. Daryl waited until I was right beside him.

"You got somethin' on your mind," he whispered to me. It wasn't a question.

I nodded. "Thing's aren't adding up."

"What do you mean?"

I didn't have an answer for him…yet.


	12. Digging Holes

I did my _best_ thinking at night, when the world slept around me. It was a double-edged sword, though, because I had a nasty habit of getting lost in my thoughts with little to no way out. It was way too easy for me to concentrate at night. By that logic, I needed silence to think. Right?

I did my _quickest_ thinking when others were distracted and making arguments and noises. People could be shouting at the top of their lungs like banshees and I could still get lost in my own head.

How's that for a contradiction?

While Miguel sat in the corner, Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl talked back and forth.

Daryl argued that Glenn's life wasn't worth the guns.

T-Dog argued that we had to get Glenn, but G probably wouldn't turn him over anyway.

Rick argued that they needed to get Glenn no matter what, but that he had a plan.

I didn't hear the plan.

I sat reverse-wise on a chair, arms crossed and resting my scraped chin on the backrest.

Something about the area, something about G, something about his people…

This didn't seem like a turf war. This seemed like they were protecting…themselves? They clearly had more man-power than us and our camp combined. They had the attitude, so what the hell were they so bent on protecting? I just couldn't believe that they were being thugs just for shits and giggles.

I vaguely heard Rick say, "Layla, I'm gonna need you to really take a gun this time."

"The word that comes to mind starts with 'N' and ends with 'ope'," I muttered as I stared at a random spot on the wall.

"A gun is gonna intimidate," Rick explained like I was five. "That may be what we need to get our point across."

"You do you," I replied simply.

"Layla-"

"Shh, I'm thinking," I scowled. "But by all means, keep arguing amongst yourselves."

"Okay, what're you thinkin' about," he asked with an irritated sigh. "Share with the class."

I puffed my cheeks and blew out air. Still staring at the wall, I said, "At the start of the apocalypse, every now and then I'd go in and out of big cities. Sometimes I'd get supplies, but I mostly just practiced dodging large crowds of walkers-"

"I'm sorry," T-Dog said quickly. "You practiced what?"

"Atlanta has one of the biggest walker populations I've seen," I continued. "So, I spent a little extra time here a couple weeks ago. I learned a lot of the city's layout. The area that G's people were in is extremely familiar."

"How so," Rick asked.

I shrugged. "Don't know. Hasn't hit me yet."

"Either way," Rick shook his head, tapping the gun bag sternly with his finger. "You need one of these."

"Either way, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Just let it go, Rick," Daryl said.

"Her walking in there without a gun is both counterproductive to what I wanna do, and dangerous."

"Layla knows her own mind," Daryl half-shrugged.

Rick sighed heavily through clenched teeth, but no words accompanied.

T-Dog took that moment to speak again. "I'm sorry, but…Practiced what?!"

\-------

Miguel's hands were bound and he had a dirty rag tied over his mouth. Daryl led him at gunpoint. Rick and T-Dog were right behind them, and I was behind all of them. I had my hand over the hilt of my knife. Everyone else kept a death grip on their guns.

We entered the ruins. As soon as we came up to the gates, they opened for us. My hand slid off the hilt.

Daryl pushed Miguel forwards. Doing so made G's people drift to the sides, effectively allowing us passage. I should've felt ridiculously smothered. There were so many of G's people, it felt like we were all crammed together. But, man, was I distracted today.

Because my first thought upon walking in was, 'This isn't a living space.' There were no furniture, no supplies. It couldn't even be called a common area. This was a basement. Not just that, but it was a glorified maintenance room. Wires, car parts, furnaces, air conditioners, and so much more. But no survival essentials except for the weapons they all had on them. The cars and car parts were the only things that had been messed with. Everything else had a thick layer of dust on it.

"I see my guns," G nodded at the bag on Rick's back. "But they're not all in the bag."

"That's because they're not yours," Rick replied. "I thought I mentioned that."

"Let's just shoot these fools right now, ese, alright," Felipe glared at us from beside G. "Unload on their asses, ese!"

G held up his hand and waited for Felipe to calm before speaking again. "I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation."

"No," Rick shook his head quickly. "I'm pretty clear." He lowered his gun briefly to cut Miguel's restraints and pushed him for Felipe to grab. "You have your man. I want mine."

Just as when we first confronted G, he had been unmoving for the most part. Then, he threatened, saying he was gonna feed Glenn to his dogs. As he did so, just as before, he became more active, stepping up to Rick and getting in his face.

G didn't want a fight. He didn't want bloodshed. He wanted the guns. He wanted to protect something. What could be here in this dingy basement that was worth protecting? No, not in this basement. That didn't make sense. If you wanted to protect something, you got it as far from the danger as possible.

"I told you how it has to be," G spat at Rick. "Are you woefully deaf?! Wait," he suddenly said, much quieter. "What's your problem, _chica_?"

Even though there was hardly any room, I didn't realize I was attempting to pace. "Shh, I'm thinking," I muttered, barely paying him any attention. My arms were crossed as I stared in the direction of where the street might be, and I was still pacing.

"Layla," Rick whispered desperately.

I uncrossed my arms and stopped as I thought about the street, as I thought about where were located near.

"Oh," I said, loud enough to create a small echo. Daryl, who had been staring straight into the eyes of G's people, stopped and looked back at me when I made the exclamation. "I get it," I said with a smile. I pointed to G. "You guys aren't assholes, you're actually good people. Because we're right next to a retirement home." I glanced around, ignoring the incredulous looks the guys were giving me. "There's a shit-ton of your people here right now, and you could easily take care of yourselves. But there're more people in that retirement home. All those senior citizens. You don't need the guns because you think you're more of a priority than us. You need the guns because the retirement home is more of a priority than _all_ of us."

I barely paused for breath, my mind working faster than my mouth. "Because a lot of those people probably can't defend themselves, right? So you need all the firepower that you can get."

I waited for G to confirm or deny what I was saying. He said nothing, just stared at me with his hands slack at his sides and his eyebrows raised. In fact, no one was saying anything. All eyes were on me.

I chuckled good-naturedly. "Why the hell didn't you just say so in the first place? We could've had a better negotiation than this."

"They stole Glenn," Daryl reminded me.

"Like Rick said," I shrugged. "Heat of the moment."

"Bullshit," Daryl scoffed.

"They wanted the guns," I said. "You, me, and Glenn were getting in the way of that. So Felipe and Jorge ended up taking Glenn because they didn't know what else to do at the time. Yeah, they're using Glenn as leverage, but that probably wasn't part of that plan." I stared into G's eyes. "Was it? Because Miguel wasn't part of our plan, either."

G inhaled and crossed his arms. At his movement, Daryl raised his gun higher. T-Dog and Rick kept a grip on theirs, but they were too distracted glancing curiously between me and G.

"What was your name again," G asked.

"Layla." I walked towards him and stuck my hand out. Hesitantly, as though we was unsure of what to make of anything, he took my hand. As soon as he shook hands with me, Daryl's position had moved and I could now feel his presence directly behind me.

G nodded. "They panicked," he explained. "But then we realized the position we were in and tried to haggle with you guys."

"How does this haggling end," I asked. "With a reasonable trade or with a gunfight? We just gave you Miguel. Where's Glenn?"

"We need those guns…" G's voice was firm at first, but then wavered a little. I could tell he wasn't sure of where to go from there.

"Felipe! Felipe!" A voice rang out. A little old lady walked into view. All of G's people respectfully stepped out of her way, but they also seemed to remember they had weapons, and raised them at us again.

" _Abuela_ ," Felipe said, holding his arm out in front of the lady. "Go back with the others. Now!"

"Get that old lady outa line of fire," Daryl exclaimed.

" _Abuela_ , listen to your _mijo_ , okay," G tried. "This is not the place for you right now."

"Mr. Gilbert," the lady was saying to Felipe. "is having trouble breathing. He needs his asthma stuff."

As the lady talked, Daryl, T-Dog, and Rick all threw me a surprised glance. They still held up their weapons, but were much more relaxed now.

G watched Rick lower his gun. "Felipe," G said quickly. "Go take care of it, okay? And take your grandmother with you."

"Who are these people," the lady asked. Suddenly, she narrowed her eyes and shuffled right over to Rick. "Don't you take him," she said sternly, making Felipe mutter something frantic in Spanish.

"Ma'am," Rick started.

"Felipe's a good boy," the lady said. "He have his trouble, but he pull himself together. We need him here," she finished softly.

"Ma'am," Rick tried again. "I'm not here to arrest your grandson."

"Then, what do you want him for?"

"He's…" He took an unsure glance around. "helping us find a missin' person. Fella named Glenn."

"Asian boy," the lady asked, perking up. "He's with Mr. Gilbert. Come, come!" She took Rick's hand. "He needs his medicine." Rick's unsure glance ended on G as he let the lady take him through the crowd.

G shook his head, no idea what exactly to do at all. "Let 'em pass," he exhaled. Everyone eased off their weapons as soon as he said that.

Daryl and T-Dog stared at me with wide eyes. I grinned sheepishly. T-Dog just shook his head and followed after Rick. Daryl looked around at everyone, exhaled, and waited for me to walk ahead of him.

The lady led us out of the basement. Once outside, she led us up a staircase into a fairly manicured backyard. We entered the retirement home through an entrance right next to there. As soon as the doors closed behind us, all was peacefully quiet.

The rooms and hallways were all taken up by the seniors. Some were getting their medical care tended to, some were reading or talking quietly to each other.

We entered an activity room. People were playing games on the lunch tables, but most were gathered around a man in a wheelchair, watching as he struggled to breathe. Felipe had joined them, holding an inhaler to the man's mouth and talking soothingly. I took a wide glance around. Every single person there was looking after each other.

Ed could learn a thing or two.

Someone moved and Glenn came into view. He, too, was watching the scene with concern.

"What the hell is this," Rick muttered to him.

"Asthma attack," Glenn responded clinically. "Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden."

Assured of Glenn's safety and the overall situation, I slowly stepped backwards until my back met a wall. The amount of people milling about through this building was beginning to make me feel crowded.

Also, I kept glancing cautiously at all the elderly people. I didn't think anyone knew that you didn't have to be bit in order to turn. All it would take was for one of these seniors to pass away, and for the rest of the facility to descend into chaos. I winced, once again feeling like a Grim Reaper, overlooking those that were soon to die.

When Daryl noticed I wasn't by his side anymore, he swiftly glanced around. When he saw me, he joined me.

"Y'alright," he asked, leaning against the wall as well.

I shrugged, trying to relax now that the confrontational atmosphere had screeched to a halt. "Lot of people here."

"Was a lot of people down in that basement."

"I had a goal," I said. "To figure out what I needed to figure out. Now, I have no goal to distract myself. And I'm just…The more people there are, the more nervous I can get."

He scratched his nose. "If I'd only met you today," he said. "Coulda fooled me."

Rick had taken G aside at that point to scold the daylights out of him. G explained some things to him. Even though he and his people weren't violent, they would've protected each other at all costs. The staff that was originally there abandoned the place and its people, so G and Felipe took over.

"Felipe's a nurse, special care provider," G concluded. "Me? I'm the custodian."

Rick looked at him blankly for a long second. And then I could almost see the wheels in his head turning.

"Can we talk to you in private," Rick asked him. G nodded, and Rick beckoned to us.

We followed G into a small employee area, away from everyone else.

"What about the rest of your crew," Rick asked.

"The _vatos_ trickle in," G said. "To check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are, and most decide to stay. It's a good thing, too, we need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart, the worst kind – plunderers – the kind that take by force."

"That's not who we are."

"How was I to know? My people got attacked, and you show up with Miguel hostage." G looked at me. "Layla, your shirt's covered in blood. Jorge's?"

I nodded stiffly.

"And here's where things get interesting," G said. "You all came up to us locked and loaded. Every single one of us readied for a fight. But you," he pointed to me. "Aside from Felipe and Jorge's wounds - which I now understand why that had to happen - you are the only one here covered in blood."

He paused. "But I can't tell whether you're not violent, or the most dangerous one here. Because every one of us was gearing up. You come up covered in one of my people's blood, but you barely laid a hand on your own weapons, you didn't spit any threats at us, and you were the only one who had a clue as to what was really going on."

"And that's dangerous," I asked, eyes slightly narrowed.

He pursed his lips, then nodded. "I don't think we've ever met anyone as unpredictable as you."

I hummed and then nodded as well. "Alright," I murmured. "I get that."

"Appearances," G concluded.

"Guess the world changed," T-Dog muttered from where he was sitting.

"No," G said fiercely. "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The _vatos_ work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can't even get to the bathroom by themselves, so that's just a dream." He looked at Rick with a shrug. "Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that's worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut. Except for one entrance. The _vatos_ go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait."

G took a breath. "The people here? They all look to me now. I don't even know why."

"Because they can," Rick said. He handed G the gun he was holding, and then proceeded to give him around half the bag.

" _Gracias_ ," G murmured. "I'm glad there was no fight, and that we could settle things like this. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave now, so I can get back to taking care of my people."

Rick nodded at G, and everyone started to file out of the room. I stayed behind.

"G," I said to him quietly, so none of his people or the seniors heard. "Can I be blunt with you?" G set the guns down, crossed his arms, and waited. "You have a lot of elderly, and a lot of people to take care of, in general. If anyone passes away, make sure you do a headshot."

"For if they get bitten," he nodded. "Obviously."

"They don't even need to be bitten."

His eyebrows scrunched. "What do you mean?"

"I…know of some people who…went to the CDC," I said carefully, trying not to hint that I was from the future at the risk of sounding like a lunatic. "The scientist there said you can turn without being bitten. We're all infected."

He went still. "You're sure?"

"I've seen it happen many times. I'm letting you know because you've got a lot of people here that are…closer to death than others. The last thing you want is someone turning and for the whole place to become absolute madness. And I know you have no reason to trust me-"

"You're right, I don't," he said calmly. "Even with how things turned out today, I don't know if I could ever trust someone like you." He inhaled and exhaled thoughtfully. "But if what you say is true, it'd be foolish of me to simply say you're wrong. Thank you for the warning, but we can take care of ourselves."

I nodded understandingly, and turned to leave. "Take care of your people, G."

"And you as well."

G's people got Miguel back, we got Glenn back, and each side received a cut of the guns. Not a bad trade at all.

As we maneuvered through the worst of Atlanta, I got lost in my thoughts again. There was no longer a trace of Merle, so I had no idea where we were supposed to go from there. I knew he was going to end up at Woodbury at some point. I just didn't know when.

"What was that," I shook my head when Rick said something to me. We were now approaching the train tracks.

"What did you do," he repeated. "Before all this? Were you a cop?

I spluttered and laughed. "Well, that's a first. No one's ever guessed I could be a cop. But, no. I've outsmarted cops, but I've never been a cop."

"Speaking of cops," Glenn chuckled, pointing to the sheriff's hat on Rick's head. "Admit it. You only came back to Atlanta for the hat."

"Don't tell anybody," Rick grinned.

Daryl was shaking his head. "Given away half our guns and ammo," he grumbled.

"Not nearly half," Rick said.

"And for what? A bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow," Daryl grumbled as I shook my head at him. "Seriously, how long you think they got?"

"How long do any of us," Rick asked.

We went around a bus, knowing our vehicle was right on the other side of it.

"Oh my god," Glenn whined as we all stared at the empty space.

"Where the hell's our van," Daryl asked.

I huffed, almost chuckling. Merle, you son of a bitch.

"We left it right there," Glenn exclaimed. "Who would take it?!"

"Merle," Rick breathed.

"I'm not complaining," I shrugged, scowling at the spot where the truck used to be.

"But he's gonna be takin' some vengeance back to camp," Daryl said.

I sighed. "You're right," I nodded, looking at him. "It's gonna be fun to deal with."

"Come on," Rick said. "We're not gettin' anywhere standing here." We all started to walk down the tracks. "We'll cut up through the mountain instead of takin' the road." He looked at me and Daryl. "As soon as we get into the woods, you two stay in front. Not only to lead us up to the camp, but also to be our first line of defense with Merle."

"Oh, I get it," I smirked. "We're your human shields. Lucky us!"

"You two have dealt with him the most," Rick said. "If anyone'll be able to diffuse the situation, it'll be you two. Shane and I will step in when necessary."

"I like how he said 'when', not 'if'," I said to Daryl sarcastically, loud enough for Rick to hear.

T-Dog and Glenn flanked Rick while Daryl and I brought up the rear.

"If Merle is at the camp," I said quietly so the others couldn't hear. "How do you want us to deal with him?"

"What'd you mean 'if'," Daryl asked.

"Not once did you ever mention him returning to the camp," I shook my head.

Daryl was quiet for a second. "He's free from the handcuffs and he's hijacked our van. He's headed to camp. I know my brother."

"I hope you're right."

"As soon as we get Merle under control," he whispered. "We're leavin'. Tonight. We ain't dealin' with this no more."

I only nodded at him.

I was a logical person. I had to be, because my instincts were downright shitty. I had a sinking feeling that Merle was nowhere near here or the camp. My instincts were almost always wrong. I hoped this was another one of those times.

\-------

We were running hard, our adrenaline fed by the screams and gunfire of the group. Chaos was all around as we arrived, and each of us split up and opened fire. Shane had everyone backed against the RV, a large herd of walkers surrounding them. As soon Rick and us jumped into the fray, the walkers collectively turned around to face off with us.

When I exhausted all of my arrows, I put my bow around my shoulders and gripped my knife. I ran for Daryl's tent. Ripping open the zipper, I grabbed my gun, checked the magazine and the chamber, and jumped back outside.

As soon as I was out, I fired, cutting my way around the camp. Everyone was making their way through the herd, trying to get to everyone else huddled against the RV. Instead of moving in a straight line, I moved in an arc, keeping to the outer edges so I had sightlines of almost everyone as I shot.

The last walker finally dropped. All that could be heard were the exhausted whimpers and cries of the group.

Staying in one place for a second, I glanced rapidly around the camp, until I saw the dying firelight shining off of Daryl's crossbow. I sighed in relief as I watched him yank arrows and bolts out of walker bodies.

I resumed walking the perimeter, turning over bodies, taking an overall headcount of all who died, and stabbing any walkers that were still kicking. One of the walkers had tin cans from the security system wrapped around its body.

The group had yet to say a word, opting to hug each other instead.

The walkers had finally moved away from the city.

I didn't have to read everyone's minds to know that an attack on this scale hadn't happened to them in a long time. And it was only around twenty walkers.

The first one to speak made my heart stutter. "Layla!" He shouted, a note of fear that echoed.

I ended my perimeter search then and chirped loudly as I made my way to the RV. As soon as he saw me, he was running to me. He was gripping the crossbow and our arrows with one hand. I did not expect him to bring his other arm around my upper back and crush me to him. I froze for a split second. Ashamed at my delayed reaction, I dropped my knife and emptied gun unceremoniously and wrapped my arms around him, being mindful to just barely touch his back.

For the first time since dying, for the first time in so many weeks…I was hugging Daryl.

It lasted for only less than a couple seconds before he let go. That was fine. He didn't want to seem vulnerable to the group, and I was more than happy to take things slow. It was only fair given how much patience he had with me the first time we met.

When he pulled back, he handed me my arrows, not taking his eyes off mine. Assured of each other's safety, we nodded at each other at the same time.

When any of us finally spoke, it was in regards to who had died. The security system I installed had not been enough to save everyone, but it gave plenty a head start. All in all, a little under a dozen deaths. Including, Andrea's sister, Amy.

And, oh, did that begin to stir things up.

"We gotta take care of it, Rick," Shane said firmly. "We don't know when it's gonna happen, but it'll happen. She'll turn."

"Andrea's mourning," Rick hissed. "We'll have someone keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't get hurt. But we gotta respect her."

"I'll do it," Dale said, in a voice that was straining not to choke on a sob. "I'll look after 'em."

Lori sniffled as she spoke. "What do we do about…those that…?"

"We'll move 'em tomorrow, when we've all rested," Shane muttered gently. "We'll use the holes Jim dug."

"Holes," Rick asked.

Shane rubbed his hands over his face. "It's been a long damn day, brother. I'll catch you up."

Daryl and I were sitting by the campfire after I threw a single log over it. However, no one wanted to enjoy it tonight. All they wanted to do was huddle inside their tents and reconvene with each other. Despite the fact that most of us were alive, it still wasn't a good day.

"Layla," Shane asked. "I know it's been a long day for you guys, too, but…we need someone on top of the RV, keep watch tonight. I'll string up the security system as best I can before I go to bed. Glenn or someone'll replace you at some point. You cool with that?"

"Ain't Dale takin' care of watch," Daryl asked with a scowl.

"Dale's watchin' out for Andrea," Shane exhaled disapprovingly. "He's gotta have all his focus on her in case things get worse."

I nodded at him. "I'm gonna do a couple things first, but I'll be up there."

Shane muttered a 'thanks'. "You know," he said. "That security system saved lives tonight." Not having much else to say, he looked down tiredly, and left us.

"You sure you're up for watch tonight," Daryl asked. "We did just get mugged today."

"I'll be fine," I said as I stood up. "No one else is able to do it right now." I paused. "Did you find any evidence of Merle here?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Do you still wanna leave tonight?"

He didn't say anything to that.

I pursed my lips. "Sometime tomorrow, we could start looking again."

He shook his head again. "He ain't nowhere near here," was all he said, and I knew he wanted to leave it at that for now.

I sighed heavily and went to his tent. I dropped my backpack and handgun inside. After changing into a clean set of clothes, I walked back out. I turned my head as soon as I saw movement in my peripheral. Ed was outside of his tent, hunched tensely over his fire ring making spastic movements.

I thought I saw blood all over him, so I walked cautiously, trying to see if he was alive or if he was now a walker.

That's when he started cursing, and I knew he was alright. He was angrily attempting to light a fire. As soon as there was a flame, I gasped. Most of his face was black and blue and red, and his shirt was stained with dried blood. I couldn't see any bites. That meant someone must've done a number on him. Honestly, it was bad. He looked like he was in quite a lot of pain.

"Shit." That was all I muttered. I didn't laugh or make sarcasm. I didn't make any jokes or make fun of him. I almost felt pity for him. Everyone had been digging holes for themselves today. Well, I guess it was my turn.

As soon as Ed heard me, rage twisted on his face and he lunged for me.

He slammed me to the ground with all his bodyweight, jamming an arm underneath my chin to cut off my airway. Freeing one of my own arms, I grabbed his wrist and yanked, forcing him to yowl and twist his body to ease the tension. When he twisted, I kneed him in the ribs. As soon as he was on his belly, I gripped both of his wrists and dug my knee into his back.

"Get the fuck off me, bitch," Ed was screaming, trying to toss and turn.

The group was shouting at us as they finally made their way over.

Daryl was quicker than them. "Say the word, Layla," he exclaimed as he aimed his crossbow inches from Ed's face. He had his teeth bared in a snarl, his eyes staring holes into Ed.

"Get her off," Ed continued.

"Layla, back the hell off," Shane was shouting.

Taking both of his wrists in one hand, I held up my other hand at everyone. "Just give it a minute," I shouted.

"Please, please, get off him," Carol cried as T-Dog struggled to hold her back.

"Layla, I ain't gonna ask you twice," Shane hollered.

"Just shut up, damn it, and wait," I yelled. I put my attention on Ed. "Are you done, Ed? 'Cause I'm not gonna move until you are."

Ed roared loudly and tried to toss me off. "Get that fuckin' thing outa my face," he yelled when Daryl brought his crossbow closer.

"Are you done, Ed!"

With a final roar, he went limp. He was breathing heavily through his nose as he stared at the ground angrily.

As soon as I let his wrists go, hands gripped my shirt and tore me off. "Son of a bitch," I yelped as I was tossed to the ground.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her," Daryl shouted as Rick had a hell of a time holding him back.

"What the fuck, Shane," I spat as I stared up at him. "I had it handled."

He shrugged. "It went on for too long."

"Shit," Rick snapped as Daryl broke free of his grip.

Shane, with exasperation, quickly held his hands up in surrender. Daryl stopped inches from his face, crossbow shuddering in his grasp at his side. Shane slowly backed away from him, and he went over to Ed. Ed was still lying on the ground for whatever reason, with Carol now cooing softly at him. I was still on the ground as well, trying to catch my breath. Daryl had started to pace while staring in Ed's direction.

"He's not worth it," I huffed. "You see his face? Somebody's already handed his ass to him."

With a final growl, he slung his crossbow on and stuck his hand out at me. He pulled me to my feet, his gaze checking over me.

Rick came over to us. "What the hell just happened?"

"You got eyes," Daryl snapped. "That fucker attacked her! He's a danger to everyone here!"

"That's not what I saw," Shane said, coming back over to us. Ed had gotten up by the point to shuffle miserably into his tent. "You were the one on top of him," Shane nodded at me.

"To get him to stop," I snapped.

"Alright, enough," Rick exclaimed. "Layla, what happened?"

"I piss people off just by walking by, it's a talent of mine," I said. "That's what happened."

"What happened," he asked again, slowly.

I inhaled. "I thought he'd turned into a walker, so I investigated. When I saw that his face was fucked up, all I said was 'Shit', and then he was on me."

"You piss people off just by walking by," Shane nodded. "Ain't that always the truth."

"This ain't her fuckin' fault," Daryl snapped at him, and I had to put myself between him and Shane.

"Let's be done with this," I said to them. "We're all exhausted. And I need to sit my ass on top of that RV. Ed and I didn't kill each other. I'd say that's a plus."

Shane grumbled something, shook his head and walked away. Rick gave me and Daryl a final look before following after him.

"Let's get the fuck outa here," Daryl suddenly said.

"After my shift is done," I said. "If you really want to go."

"Why," he scoffed. "You were just attacked. In our own camp."

"Ed's just one person," I reasoned. "And we've all been through the wringer today. I say we wait 'til things calm down, and then decide from there."

He paced some more. After a few moments, he stopped and looked at me. "Fine," he muttered. "We'll see what happens." He paused to scratch the back of his neck. "You, uh, want company while on watch?"

"I'd love that," I smiled. "If you're not too tired."

"Naw," he said. "I'ma find us somethin' to eat first." He walked away.

When I got to the RV, Andrea was still sobbing over Amy's bitten, bloodied body. I glanced at Dale, who was sitting next to the fire, keeping a close on her. His eyes were rimmed with red from crying.

"I'm not good with stuff like this," I whispered to Dale. "But is there anything you need me to do?"

Dale just shook his head.

I flexed my jaw. "If it was a bite on the limb, we could amputate-"

"She has multiple bites," he said, voice dead.

I nodded and walked on to climb up the RV's ladder. Ignoring the lawn chair up there, I sat down on the roof and crossed my legs, staring out into the night. When Andrea's sobs quieted to a lower volume, I could hear the nighttime much better. I could hear the cans of the security system being jostled. I didn't remove my bow from my shoulders, simply looking in the direction of the noise.

The cans stopped. Out of the woods came Shane and Rick. Shane went into his tent, probably done adjusting the cans for the night. Rick went in the direction of the RV. I raised a brow when I heard him climbing the ladder.

"You got a minute," Rick asked.

I half-shrugged and pushed the lawn chair his way. "Are Lori and Carl alright?"

He nodded as he sat down in it. "It was a close call today."

"Now that the walkers are moving out of the city," I said. "We're gonna have close calls all the time."

"How come you ain't afraid of walkers," he asked.

I hummed thoughtfully. "I'm not afraid of them," I said. "Because I respect them. I treat them like any other animal."

"They're unpredictable."

"Not to me they're not. Look, they exist. It's best to square with that and adapt."

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about," Rick said, but then he trailed off. "Um…"

I grinned. "Word of advice. Don't be vague or beat around the bush. I can't do shit if people aren't straightforward with me. I just can't read people when they're like that. You got something to say, you say it to me like you hate me."

He shook his head. "I don't hate you."

_Your future self would probably disagree_ , I thought with a smirk.

"It's just…" He chuckled lightly. "I got no idea where to start." He fidgeted with his hat in his hands for a bit. "I'll start with this: I think I seriously misjudged you.

"When I met Merle, I knew he was gonna be a handful to bring down. The day before you and Daryl got back, we were all gathered around a fire. The group mentioned you, but they kept warnin' me about Daryl and his short fuse. Then, Shane took me aside in private to tell me about you. He kept trippin' over his words. One second he was telling me you were quiet and kept to yourself, the next he was tellin' me you act like a wild animal ready to pick fights.

"And when you and I first made eye contact, I thought Shane was right. I could tell, just by lookin' at you, that you wouldn't back down from anything. And when Daryl tried to fight me, and you stepped in, more than ready to shut that fight down, I didn't know what to expect." He chuckled. "I certainly didn't expect you to just…step aside and give Daryl clear access to me. And once he had that access, I certainly didn't expect him to not try anything else." He paused. "But you did. At first glance, you seemed confrontational to me, only to all of a sudden step in when something went down. You stopped a fight instead of causing one.

"I thought I had you figured out from there. You weren't unpredictable. You keep up a defensive front, but you're not a fighter." He blew out a puff of air and shook his head. "And then we get to Atlanta, and I end up rethinking everythin'. All of us were on edge, had death grips on our weapons, jumping at every little sound. When it came time to kill walkers, we all stood still and waited for them to come to us so we wouldn't get snuck up on. Next thing I know, you're strollin' on past, goin' around the corner, and stabbin' 'em with your knife.

"I can't think of a single person who would wanna get that close to walkers, but you had no problem with it. So, I thought I was wrong. You clearly are a fighter, and you're definitely not one to back down."

He sighed, taking a breath. "I thought I had you figured out, again. And then Glenn gets captured, and we take Miguel hostage. You and Daryl had been mugged, with you covered in someone's blood because you bit 'em. You didn't even use a single weapon in that alley fight, did you?"

I shook my head at him.

"Anyway," he continued. "We walk straight up to G and his people, armed to the teeth. All except you. Both times we face off with 'em, you didn't even bother with your weapons. And then you start talking about the retirement home, and how G was just tryin' to protect his people. It was as if you knew, from the moment we met 'em, how things were gonna play out. Start to finish. Next thing I know, later, you and Ed are wrestling each other to the ground."

He took another breath. "I saw Daryl a mile off. Impulsive. Quick to anger. I thought you were gonna be similar in some way. The way you look people dead in the eyes, the way you sometimes move like a defensive animal. I knew Daryl was gonna be tough to handle. I assumed you were gonna be the same way."

He looked me square in the eyes, but with no animosity. "G was right. You are unpredictable."

I snorted. "Sounds to me like you hit the nail on the head, then."

He shook his head. "I still don't know. Daryl's had an emotional day. He hasn't been thinking anything through. We've all been on edge. You, though? We had to deal with hundreds of walkers, you and Daryl got mugged, we nearly got blown apart in a war…and you didn't lose your cool once."

"I bit someone," I said bitterly.

"Self defense," he shrugged. "We were all focused on one thing at time. Go after Merle, kill walkers, follow Merle's blood trail, kill more walkers, deal with people, get out of the city alive. But you analyzed things as you went, looking at every possible angle and outcome, like it was all routine.

"When I first met you, I didn't know if I even wanted you along. I assumed you were gonna pull a crazy stunt and get us all killed. I would've never guess that you would be the one to keep your head. That you would be the one protecting us the entire time.

"You are unpredictable," he concluded. "But you also have a lot of restraint. You're not violent, yet you're lethal. Do you know how confusing all this is?"

I nodded evenly at him and looked away.

"I hope I haven't offended you," Rick said after some time.

"I know how people tend to see me," I said neutrally.

"I don't know," he said with a grin. "You've got quite the fan club. T-Dog, Glenn, Jacqui, Morales, and almost everyone else, they respect you. And Daryl…He looks at everyone like they're inferior. He sees you as his equal. He doesn't treat anyone else like that." Suddenly, he grimaced. "You're definitely not Shane's number one fan, though."

"Shane needs to get his head out of his ass every once in a while," I remarked.

"You're not wrong," Rick shrugged. "So…what did you do before all this? If not a cop, did you serve anywhere? Military? Army? You got a lot of scars." When I didn't say anything, he hummed thoughtfully. "How about somethin' college related? Some sort of psych major?"

I shook my head, trying to hide a scowl. I wasn't in the mood to be pried with questions. Actually, I was never in the mood for that.

"Am I interruptin' somethin'," Daryl's voice came from the ladder as he made his way onto the roof. _Perfect timing_ , I thought with a grateful smile.

Rick looked at me as he stood up. "I didn't mean to pry. You sure you ain't offended?"

"Nah, we're cool," I shook my head. Before he could leave I said, "But if you handcuff anyone to a roof again, you'll have me to deal with."

Daryl was snickering. "You won't win that fight, Sheriff Grimes," he drawled. Rick simply nodded and took his leave.

I tapped the lawn chair. Instead of sitting in it, he shoved it off to the side and sat down right next to me. "Was all I could find," he said, handing me a granola bar and a bag of trail mix.

"Fine by me," I said happily. "I haven't eaten anything all day. You eat anything?" He held up his granola bar. "Okay, but we're sharing the trail mix."

"Sure," he grunted. "What'd Rick want?"

"To analyze the hell out of me," I said with a chuckle. "Trying to figure me out. It's the cop in him, having to analyze everything." I bit into the granola bar.

"He say anythin' specific," he asked around bites of his food.

"In a nutshell, he told me I was unpredictable. Which I don't disagree with."

"Neither do I," Daryl said as he tossed the granola wrapper over the side of the RV. "I woulda never guessed about the retirement home crap." He paused. "You really didn't know about that?"

"I may be from the future," I said. "But I still don't know everything. I took a lucky guess." I dug into the trail mix. "So…do you believe me now?"

"Honestly," he muttered. "Dunno." He looked at me. "You been up front about everythin' since I met you. And today you were right. I dunno, but I got no reason not to believe you."

I shrugged in understanding.

"So," he said. "You don't like cars."

I winced. "I'd rather not talk about that yet. Not until we're completely private. Not that I think Andrea or Dale will overhear, they're too busy, but still…" I flexed my jaw. "But…can you do me a favor? I know you couldn't have done anything about it at the time, but if I ever bite someone again…I want you to do everything in your power to pry me off."

He waved his dismissively. "Quit beatin' yourself up over that."

"No, you don't get it," I whispered. "If I bite someone, I'm gone. I'm no longer aware of what I'm doing. I know what triggers it, but I don't know why it gets to that point. It's like something in my head short circuits, until I feel like I have no other choice. Me biting anyone…never turns out good."

We held each other's gazes until he nodded. We finished off the last of the trail mix. Every now and then I'd reposition myself to face a different direction of the camp. I kept an ear out for noise. It was now just another quiet night.

"You still wanna leave," I asked him.

"Where to," he scoffed. "Got no idea which way Merle went." He looked at me. "You knew he got handcuffed to a roof. You got any idea where he is now?"

"If I did, you'd be the first to know. I know where he ends up, but that's not gonna be for a long time. Almost a year."

"Where?"

"A town called Woodbury."

His eyes lit up. "Woodbury, Georgia? That's less than three hours from here. We could be there before mornin'!"

"Hey, calm down, alright," I said quickly. "I passed through Woodbury and its surrounding areas before coming to the Atlanta area. There was nothing there."

"And when was that? A while ago?" He stood up, gripping the crossbow strap. "Could be somethin' there now."

I shook my head slowly. "Are you sure? I don't want this to get your hopes up."

He nodded. "I believe you when you say there's probably nothin' there. But I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least look."

I rubbed my eyes with my hand. "When do you wanna leave," I finally said.

"We'll start loadin' things up right now."

"Everything? Including the tents and gear?"

"If we find Merle, you think we're gonna come back here?" He scoffed. "I don't wanna come back here either way."

I wasn't a family person. I didn't miss my own siblings. Yet, I knew how important this was to Daryl, to leave no stone unturned. What I couldn't yet fathom, though, was him abandoning this group, not with how close he would become with them. However, Daryl currently didn't have a connection with anyone except me. He didn't see these people as family or people even worthwhile. I didn't have any grounds to convince Daryl to stay.

I nodded. "Someone should be here any minute to replace me. Then we leave. That okay?"

He nodded quickly. "I'll start loadin' everythin' up." He stopped himself before going down the ladder. "We can't haul everythin' on just the bike. You gonna be okay in the truck?"

"My iPod's in the tent," I said. "So long as you don't misplace that, I should be fine."

His eyebrows scrunched together curiously, but he didn't say anything else as he left.

Not much later, Morales appeared. "My turn, Layla," he said with a yawn and sat down in the lawn chair. "Hey, do you have any idea why Daryl looks like he's gearin' up to leave? He's loaded up your entire campsite into his truck."

I simply bade him a goodnight and descended the ladder. Daryl was in the bed of his and Merle's truck, checking the tie-downs on the motorcycle. As soon as he saw me, he took my backpack off his shoulders and handed it down to me. "iPod's in the front pocket," he said. "Gun and everythin' else are in the main one."

"Thank you," I told him with a smile.

He gave a tie-down one last yank and jumped onto the ground. We nodded once at each other and got into the truck.

"You okay if I roll the window down," I asked.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," he said, starting the ignition.

Inhaling deeply, I slammed the door shut and quickly rolled down the window. I could feel my breathing becoming uneven, but it wasn't as harsh a reaction like I had with the box truck. Daryl hit the gas. I sank back into the seat, trying to focus on the sound of the engine and the feel of the midnight Georgia breeze.

Woodbury, here we come.


	13. Woodbury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Warning: Characters talking about rape, PTSD, touch issues, and family issues.

So, let's see now.

We'd been up for more than twenty hours straight, we had only eaten granola and trail mix for dinner, it was the middle of the night, and we were headed to Woodbury.

I think it's safe to say that Daryl and I did not have much of an off switch when it came to determination, because despite how tired we both were, I didn't think either of us could go to sleep until this day was officially done. If it would ever be done.

"You oughta catch some rest," he said. "I'll let you know when we get there."

I chuckled humorlessly. "Asking me to sleep in a vehicle is like asking me to sleep in the middle of a sinking Titanic."

"How you doin' so far?"

"I have the window open, your truck is blissfully loud, and I know I can grab my iPod at any time. I'm good so far."

"So, why the iPod if you ain't usin' it right now?"

"Because iPod batteries run out," I said. "I won't be able to rely on it eventually."

He leaned over briefly and tapped the glove compartment, his arm brushing my knee in the process. "There should be one of 'em cassette thingies in here," he said as he put his hand back on the wheel. "You could plug it into that and play it through the truck speakers."

"I tend to blast AC/DC," I smirked. "And I…wanna talk to you about some things first."

He gave me a confused look. "AC/DC calms you down? Really?"

"Mhm," I nodded. "They have consistent rhythms in almost every single one of their songs."

"And the window and the truck engine?"

"The windows I don't always need open," I explained. "But it helps some. And any noise really will help keep me distracted."

"Distracted from what," he asked in a murmur. I could hear in his voice that he was trying to be careful with his words.

"Don't ever be afraid to ask me things, Daryl," I said with a smile.

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. He wasn't deliberately ignoring me, it was just his way of giving me space.

I didn't want to start from the beginning. I never even want to talk about the beginning, but I was still beating myself up about assuming he had already known about my PTSD.

I inhaled shakily. "I had my first date when I was in high school," I said in the strongest voice I could muster. "It was with a friend of the family, I'd known him for years. After the date was over, I discovered that my ride home wasn't gonna come, so he offered to drive me home. He'd never given me a reason not to trust him. We walked…and walked and walked...until we got to his car."

I tried swallowing the lump that automatically formed in my throat. "It was parked in an alley all the way down a dead end." I paused. "My instincts are…worthless nowadays, but at the time…As soon as I saw that car and as soon as I heard noises coming from it…" I tried to inhale. "I wasn't able to run very far before he grabbed me. He dragged me to his car. And I tried to fight back, but I-"

"You didn't know he was gonna do that," he murmured gently, but the steering wheel creaked under his tensing fists.

"His buddies were waiting inside the car. They opened the door for us and they shoved me in…Locked me in," I tried to say quickly just to get those particular words out of my mouth. I curled my knees up to my chest and tucked my hands against my body so he wouldn't see them tremble. "They, um…They took turns…for god knows how long."

The noise I made next sounded unearthly to me, like a cough, a wheeze, and a laugh all mixed together. "You wanna know the fucked up part? I don't remember them stripping me naked. I don't even know if I remember the pain. They drove me home and left me on my front porch, and drove away. I sat on that porch until morning, thinking…I'd been locked in, they'd held me down, I couldn't get out…" My teeth gritted together.

In frustration, I kicked my foot to the floor so hard that I felt the shock right through my spine. As soon as I realized I'd done that, I curled it back to my chest again. I leaned forward and buried my face in my hands, letting my nails scratch over my skin.

"…And I couldn't do a damn thing to save myself. I had no control over what had just happened to me." I tried to exhale. "I had no way out…No control…No…"

I kept my face buried in my hands, trying to force breaths that didn't want to come, trying to see my hands instead of the interior of that damned car, trying to bring myself back to Daryl's truck.

I didn't feel the truck slowing down, I didn't hear the glove compartment being opened, I didn't hear the cassette being inserted into the stereo. But I did hear him ask, "Which song you want?" I hated how far away his voice sounded, so far away that I didn't think the question was directed at me, so I didn't answer.

Despairingly, I couldn't hear him anymore. Either he'd stopped talking, or he'd drifted away. All I could hear now was the sound of car doors locking over and over again.

"Have a Drink on Me" wove its way around the demons in my head, until it drowned out their chaos, until I couldn't even hear or see it anymore. When I opened my eyes and lifted my head from hands, I was back in Daryl's truck.

I exhaled and stared at the stereo. The cassette was plugged into my iPod and playing my music. "This is my favorite song," I murmured. I looked over at him, and he still had his eyes on the road as if he'd never moved or slowed the truck down. "How'd you guess?"

"It was the first one cued up on the screen," he said. He looked at me. I could tell, for my sake, that he was trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. "Okay?"

"Much better," I breathed. "Thanks."

He nodded. "Ain't never seen you like that before." He paused. "Aside from the touch thing, but even then…Not like that."

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. His knuckles were white as his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Opening his eyes and staring straight ahead, he spoke in a low, strained voice. "Those pricks…They still alive?"

"Who knows," I shrugged, unable to keep the stutter out of my voice. "It's a big world."

He didn't respond to that, just tightened his hold on the steering wheel and glared silent threats at the road.

"Daryl," I said to try and get his attention. "If we ever did come across any of them, they wouldn't even have the chance to do anything because I'd be losing my mind and ripping into them. And if you just so happen to be there?" I blew out a puff of air. "Between the two of us, I'd feel sorry for those sons of bitches."

"Damn straight," he grunted, grip relaxing. "So-"

"I told you, you can ask me anything," I said when he stopped himself. "I know you have questions."

He flexed his jaw a little. "That why you don't wanna have sex, or wanna be touched?"

"No. I've never had a sex drive, even before..." I trailed off. "And I don't like to be touched because of my family. When I told them what happened, they instantly wanted to do whatever it took to…help me through it. I told them I wanted to be left alone, that I'd come around on my own time."

I shook my head, scowling bitterly. "The shitty part is that my family had always understood that I never liked to be around people all that often. Suddenly, I get raped and it's like everything has to change. I told them I needed space, and they didn't listen. They wanted me to be involved with them twenty-four-seven. They invited me along to social gatherings and stuff. And when I refused to leave the house, they had gatherings there. And the touching…Jesus Christ, all the hugging, hand-squeezing, arms around my shoulders…They wouldn't stop.

"Their logic was to desensitize me from what had happened. They thought they were healing me. I told them over and over, back off." I laughed harshly. "We even had a fucking family meeting, and they had the nerve to tell me I was getting worse. I told them that if they didn't stop touching me, that if they didn't let me have my fucking personal space back, I would walk right then and there.

"They tried to start arguing with me…so I walked out." I exhaled. "They love me, and they were just trying to help me, but they never once listened to a damn thing I had to say about it." I crossed my arms in my lap. "Now, I can't stand it when people touch me. I haven't seen any of my family members for so many years now. I should miss them, but I just…don't. I will always love and respect my family, but they proved to me over and over that they love me…but don't respect me."

"Dunno if I could wrap my mind around not bein' around family," he said. I shrugged. That was fair, given how family-oriented he was. "But you don't mind it when I've touched you."

I nodded. "It wasn't always like that. The first time around, it was almost half a year later when I was finally okay with you touching me. Anybody ever tell you you have the patience of freaking saint?"

He snorted. "People've told me I got a short fuse, but never patience." His eyebrows scrunched together. "So…Were we…together the first time you met me?"

"Yes," I murmured. "We were together for about…three years before I died. Funny, it seemed longer than that. But that's why I didn't wanna tell you any personal stuff I knew. We trusted each other with so much."

"Tell me somethin'," he said.

I let silence linger between us for a while. Then, I frowned. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked me in the eyes for a second before focusing back on the road. "I trust you."

I pursed my lips. "Okay…" I said, no sarcasm in my voice. "Your favorite Disney movie is "Bambi"."

He froze, and a hint of red crept onto his cheeks. "Pfft," he said as he plastered on a scowl. "Yeah, right. Merle try to tell you that?"

"Nope," I said calmly. "You like it 'cause it shows that the animals we hunt are still living creatures that need to be respected. Your words, by the way."

His scowl faded, but his face was still a little red as he continued to stare at the road.

"You also don't like having your back touched a whole lot, and, yes, I know the reason," I said when he tensed. "I wanna practice necromancy so I can raise your father from the dead and kill him myself."

He relaxed a little, and chuckled under his breath. "If anybody else said that to me, I'd tell 'em they wouldn't win that fight. But you? Maybe." Then, his voice dropped to a growl. "Not that I'd even let you close to that bastard."

We got away from darker conversations to talk about other stuff. What music I had on my iPod, what either of us did before the apocalypse, Merle and Daryl's escapades as drifters, just anything we could think of to talk about. Interesting enough, he didn't ask me about the future at all. We just talked about what had happened in the past, or things that happened recently. We weren't too far from Woodbury when Daryl asked me something.

"So, why the bitin'," he asked me.

I chuckled, more than used to his random switches in the tone and topic of a conversation. "I don't know," I muttered. "I wanna say I do it when I have no other choice, but that's bullshit, because every time I've looked back on the times I've bitten people, it could've always been avoided. There always could've been an alternative. I just…get into this state where I lose my mind."

"What triggers it?"

"Used to be triggered by almost any kind of touch. Now, it's mostly when I feel cornered, or held down a certain way," I said. I blew out a puff of air. "The first time I bit someone was shortly after I'd been raped. My parents were throwing an outdoor lunch party and they made me be social. They invited the new neighbors over and there was a guy my age. We talked for a while, and I thought we might become good friends. Then, he touched my cheek. He was harmless, he was just trying to be charming." I leaned back and shook my head. "I didn't know I'd closed my eyes until I heard him screaming. When I opened my eyes, his hand was covered in blood. They rushed him to the ER. Ten stiches. Five on both sides of his hand."

"Damn," he breathed. "You never act afraid of nothin'. You always throw yourself into a fight."

"That's because I refuse to be a victim ever again. And fights don't bother me, not unless they turn…suggestive," I said. "I've gotten better over the years. The PTSD, the biting, the fear…I have a lot more control of it than I used to. Except for touch. It still makes me uncomfortable. I can shake hands with people, and I can fight, but that's about the extent. And I still have problems if I'm locked in somewhere."

"And you ain't afraid when I touch you."

"Correct," I nodded.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Anyone ever tell you you're somethin' else?" I snorted. "Seriously. You're tellin' me horror stories that no person should ever have to deal with. You should be afraid of everythin'. Instead, you just jump right into things. You're fierce, balls to the walls, and don't take no one's shit. Ain't never known anyone like you," he said, voice dropping to a murmur.

Coming up ahead was a sign that said _Welcome to Woodbury_. "I thought about it, by the way," he said as we passed the sign and slowed.

"About what," I asked.

He stopped the truck. He reached across the seat for my hand and gave it a gentle, secure squeeze. "You're stuck with me."

I paused. "You sure?"

"I was sure when I said 'Ain't nothin' to think about', and I'm sure now." His thumb stroked over my knuckles. "So long as that's okay with you?"

I didn't bother hiding my blush or wide smile. "I am perfectly fine with that."

The smile on his face was still that of shyness, but a smile nonetheless. His thumb ran over my knuckles once more before he let go to put his hands on the wheel again.

The last time I was at Woodbury was before making my way up to the woodlands around Atlanta. Woodbury had been completely overrun by walkers at the time, similar to how Atlanta now was. As Daryl and I drove around, I could tell there had been quite the change.

Woodbury was absolutely desolate. We drove past hundreds of human and walker bodies lying lifelessly in the streets. When Daryl stopped the truck, cut the engine, and we both got out, all was deathly silent. Not a growl, not a human voice. The town had literally been left to rot.

We had driven through a half-made barricade and stopped the truck in the middle of Main Street. The barricades were not there a couple weeks ago, which meant people were trying to rebuild…at some point. We walked cautiously down the street, stepping around dead bodies and debris. Bullet shells occasionally clinked under our feet. Despite the barricade, it looked like no one had set foot here for a long time.

Daryl stopped, slung his crossbow over his shoulder, cupped his hands together, and whistled. "Merle," he called out. His voice and whistle echoed. "Merle!"

With a frustrated huff from Daryl, we continued. When we got to the end of Main Street, we came across another barricade that had been completed and blocked us from going further.

Daryl spun around and shouted again. "Merle!"

I walked by him and climbed up the side. Both barricades at both ends were made of metal panels and car debris, so it was hard to get my footing while avoiding slicing my skin on something. Once up there, I kept my eyes out for signs of the white box truck, for signs of anything. I inhaled, smelling the air for any hint of cigarettes or drugs. I paced back and forth, but found nothing from up there.

I looked down at Daryl and shook my head apologetically. Tight-lipped, he nodded. He grabbed my hand as I shimmied back down to the ground.

He looked intensely at our surroundings as he deliberated. He made eye contact with me, nodded at the nearest building, and we headed for it. I thought about suggesting we split up and go through the buildings alone, but all of the stories that I'd ever heard of Woodbury would suggest that wasn't the best idea, even if it did seem like an empty town.

We spent our time going from building to building, when one wasn't locked. Daryl would whistle or yell Merle's name every few minutes. The only answer was his own echo. We got back to the truck and drove out of Main Street to another area. The next few hours were filled with stopping, searching, and driving on to another street.

At some point, Daryl veered the truck, and we were headed away from Woodbury. He stopped us near the edges of some woodland and cut the engine.

He leaned forward until his forehead met the steering wheel. He didn't say a word, I couldn't even hear if he was breathing. Suddenly, without moving his head or other arm, he slammed his hand down hard onto the dashboard. I frowned, leaned back in my seat, stared ahead at the woods, and waited. Nothing I could say or do would make things better. The only thing that I could provide of comfort was some silence.

When he did speak, his voice was a whisper. "The hell am I gonna do, Layla?"

"You told me you see him again," I murmured. "In about a year from now." He didn't say anything. "But I know you want him here now."

He lifted his head up. His jaw was set and he kept blinking against the moisture in his eyes. Mechanically, he took the keys out of the ignition and put them in his pocket.

When he didn't make another move, I asked gently, "I'll do some hunting or scavenging while you light a fire?"

He nodded once and we got out of the truck.

I navigated the woods on high alert, keeping my grip on my knife. I'd only met the Governor when the prison fell. Because of him, Hershel and countless other people had died, and others had very nearly lost their lives. I hadn't know the Governor when the group first encountered him. Quite frankly, I could go my entire life never meeting him all over again and I'd die happy.

We weren't in the town right now, just on the outskirts, but I still didn't feel comfortable being this close.

I turned over rocks and looked through logs, hoping to at least find us a snake for dinner. As I searched, I thought about what we should do next. I certainly didn't want to stay in this area longer than necessary. Merle was nowhere to be seen and we shouldn't linger. However, Daryl was exhausted, still letting things sink in. I highly doubted he wanted to go anywhere just yet.

I followed the smell of campfire smoke, and eventually saw the light through the trees. Daryl was staring at the fire, expressionless and still. I frowned and exhaled.

I walked over and sat down next to him. "Nothing's awake right now. All I found was a blueberry bush," I muttered, taking the berries out of my pocket. "Here," I offered. Without looking away from the fire, he took some of them, but didn't eat.

I sighed quietly and ate my share. As we both stared at the fire, I could tell that Daryl didn't intend to move from this spot for a long time, which could turn out bad. Even though Woodbury seemed abandoned, that didn't mean no one was there. We came across several locked doors in our search that we weren't able to open. The barricades on Main Street were not there a couple weeks ago. I wouldn't be surprised if the residents were simply hiding. Which meant we needed to leave sooner rather than later.

I looked at Daryl and frowned, knowing full well he wasn't going to like where the conversation was going to go. "So," I said. "Where to now?"

"We'll stay in the area," Daryl grunted. "If you're right, he'll turn up here eventually."

"I'm not even...considering that to be an option," I said. Daryl looked at me. "Woodbury ends up being run by this guy called the Governor. Negotiable on the outside, psychopathic on the inside. We stay here and we're bound to encounter him sooner or later. And I don't wanna encounter him, period." I pursed my lips. "We should go back to the group."

Daryl took his eyes off me to glare at the fire. "After they abandoned Merle? After Ed attacked you? After Shane manhandled you?"

"Look, I'm not completely sure what happened with Merle, but they sounded like they had no other choice. Come on, Daryl," I said when he opened his mouth to argue. "You know Merle, he gets off on looking for fights. I'm not saying I agree with what Rick did, I still kinda wanna punch him for leaving a person behind. But what's happened has happened, and we've looked all over for him today. As for Ed and Shane? Remember, I piss people off just by existing. No matter where we go or who we meet, it'll be the same damn thing."

Daryl shook his head. "Me and you don't need any of 'em," he grumbled.

"But they'll die without us."

"Serves 'em right."

"It's because of them that you end up finding Merle again eventually."

He jutted his chin in the direction of the town. "You said he ends up there."

"Yes," I nodded. "But that's not how you guys reunite with him. Some of your group ends up finding him on a run that goes completely off the rails. I don't know all the details, but I know it's how things end up getting started with the Governor."

He snorted. "They ain't my group."

After a pause, I murmured, "Merle said it doesn't work, not having people. I don't like people, so I don't adhere to that. But the group? They're our ticket to finding Merle."

Daryl shook his head. "Ain't no way we can trust 'em."

"Trust has to be earned," I said. "It never comes instantly, and if it does, be suspicious. You gotta work hard for it."

Daryl grumbled something unintelligible.

"Please think about it," I said. "They need us, just as much as you'll need them."

"And you don't need 'em," he asked me with a scowl.

"Depends on which group members you're talking about," I shrugged. And then my voice got quieter. "And I shouldn't even be here in the first place. I should be headed east. You and I don't meet for another year-ish."

I looked down at his hand. Slowly, gently, I clutched it with my own. "Either way now, I'm here for you if you need me. And I'm telling you, we'll find him."

Keeping a grip on my hand, Daryl laced our fingers together. He let go after a few minutes. We sat there, staring tiredly at the fire and just ready to finally call it a night.

"I'm done with this day," Daryl muttered after a while. "Let's get some sleep. I'll think about it and tell you in the mornin'."

I nodded.

Before falling asleep that night, I thought about the group. I didn't surround myself with people I didn't trust, but those people were to become important to Daryl. Even though I didn't want anything to do with certain group members, I knew we had to go back. For Daryl's sake.


	14. The CDC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has been some confusion apparently. Remember, Ed survived the attack because of the tin cans Layla had set up around the camp. Remember, Ed attacked her shortly after the attack was over and done with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been some confusion apparently. Remember, Ed survived the attack because of the tin cans Layla had set up around the camp. Remember, Ed attacked her shortly after the attack was over and done with.

Daryl turned the music down. "You sure about this?"

I nodded. "I know you wanna turn back," I said. "But staying anywhere near Woodbury will only screw us over." I plucked the aux chord out of my iPod, cutting off the music completely. "You'll see Merle again, I promise you that."

He sighed through his nose, shaking his head unsurely. "I'm trustin' you, Layla," he muttered.

"Let's hope I don't fuck up, then." I let my head fall back and yawned.

We only got a few hours of sleep last night, which would've been fairly normal if we hadn't been up for more than twenty hours straight prior. We were still pretty tired. We were now headed back to the quarry camp. Daryl had woke me up after snuffing out the fire to tell me his decision. I could tell he definitely wasn't thrilled.

Neither was I. I wasn't looking forward to coexisting with Ed. He and I did not have any mutual respect or trust and we were going to be on edge around each other all the time. However, it helped that Ed was more or less predictable.

I could coexist with Shane, but no longer trusted him either. Shane made it clear that I was constantly irritating his ego and that he thought I had issues with his leadership. I did, but that didn't mean I wanted to take over. Unfortunately, he didn't see it that way. Ever since more and more group members had come to me looking for help and advice about things, my acquaintanceship with Shane was on eggshells. Even though I told him up front one day that I had no interest to be leader of anything, he didn't believe me. The only understanding that we had of each other by that point was that I needed my space often and that I didn't like being touched. And after he felt the need to tear me off of Ed even though I was already in the process of letting him go, any mutual trust I had for him went right out the window.

Ed was a landmine, and you could always trust a landmine to go off the second you messed with it. For the most part, he had already lost his mind and would only continue doing so.

Shane was a stick of dynamite. You had to light the fuse and wait apprehensively for it go off. Ever since Rick came into the picture, Shane was beginning to lose his sanity with things. I could tell it was only a matter of time before he lost his mind, and when he did…it wasn't going to be pretty.

I shook my head with a scowl, and was about to plug my iPod back in when Daryl suddenly slowed the truck.

"The hell," he muttered.

Just ahead of us was a caravan of vehicles, and people gathered on the side of the road. One of the vehicles was Dale's RV. The closer we got, the more I could pick out the familiar faces of the group.

"I would joke that they went on a field trip without us," I muttered. "But, I mean, who are we to talk?"

Daryl pulled the truck over in front of the RV. As soon as the others saw us, Rick came over.

"What happened to you two," he asked as Daryl and I got out.

"We, uh, gave looking for Merle one last shot," I said.

Rick looked at Daryl. "Anything?"

Daryl shook his head, glaring at Rick.

Rick looked away for a second, eyebrows scrunched together in sympathy. "Daryl, what I did-"

Daryl made a harsh huffing sound and waved him off, turning his body to face away from him. "What's goin' on there," he asked, pointing up the hill. Everyone had started to gather up by a tree Jim was leaning his back on.

Rick glanced at the ground solemnly. "Jim got bit in the attack last night," he explained, and I frowned sadly. "We thought we could get him help before…" He sighed. "But he's chosen to rest here."

"Y'all reap what you sow," Daryl scoffed. "Help where?"

"The CDC," Rick said.

Oh, man.

"Don't you think if the CDC could fix things, they'd have done it by now," Daryl said dubiously.

Shane came over to join us. "Look," he said to us. "We don't know if there'll be anythin' there, but it's better than nothin'." I tilted my head with a frown. Shane didn't sound enthused in the least.

"It's a chance," Rick concluded.

"Jesus," I muttered, shaking my head. "Whose hair-brained scheme was this?"

"Mine," Rick responded. "We need relief, we need sanctuary, and if possible..answers."

"Answers to what," I asked, probably a little too harshly. "The CDC's a dead end, and the only thing they'll tell us is that we're all infected anyway."

They fell silent at that, sharing shocked glances with each other.

Then, Shane scoffed, plastering on an amused grin. "Last I checked only some of our group got bit last night. Not all of us."

"What do you mean, Layla," Rick asked, and I could see the determination in his face weaken slightly.

"There's…I don't know," I said quickly. "Something in the air or something-"

"All I heard from that was 'I don't know'," Shane mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. "Man, I'm not a scientist, I don't know the details! All I know is that somehow, someway, we are all infected with whatever this is."

Shane shook his head at me.

Rick glanced at Shane, and then looked at me again, this time with determination returning. "Do you have proof," he asked with narrowed eyes.

My eyes narrowed as well. "Not unless you find me a fresh stiff that hasn't been bitten."

"We're goin' to the CDC," he said firmly. "It's up to you two if you wanna come with us." On that note, he walked away to go pay his respects to Jim.

Shane glanced between Daryl and I. "Personally," he said slowly. "I wouldn't have extended the invitation, 'specially since you two abandoned us last night."

"Next time," Daryl snapped. "Have better control of your camp."

While they glared at each other, all I could thing was, _It's not Shane's camp anymore_.

When Shane stalked away, I turned to Daryl. "I'm gonna go say goodbye Jim."

He nodded, and I stared at him for a second before making my way up the hill. He hadn't said a word while I was talking with Shane and Rick, and there was no hesitation or distrust in his face towards me. I didn't know whether he believed me about all of us being infected, but at least he didn't seem to really be doubting me.

As I approached Jim, Glenn was walking passed to go return to one of the vehicles. As soon as he saw me, a smile spread across his face. I smiled back and nodded a 'hello' to him.

"Um," he said awkwardly. "I'd hug you, but…you know."

I nodded again. "It's good to see you, too."

He nodded at me and kept walking, still smiling.

I walked up to Jim now that everyone else had gone back to their vehicles. I took some leftover blueberries from my pocket and set them down beside him.

"You know," Jim rasped. "Most people put flowers on graves." I chuckled. "It's what you do, though, so thank you."

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Providing for people," he said. "You're either…" He inhaled sharply at the pains his body was creating. "You're either providing us with food, or providing us with protection. As soon as I heard the cans go off, I was grabbin'…the nearest weapon I could find…It was too late, though. I wasn't quick enough."

I frowned, trying to suppress a wince.

"Wasn't your fault, of course," he continued. "They were on us before we knew it. But the cans helped some people…Just not me." He looked above my shoulder at the horizon. "I'll get to see my family again."

I nodded slightly. "Um," I murmured. "I'm not good with sad goodbyes or anything, um…"

"It's alright," he said with a small smile. "Just keep doin' what you're good at. Without you…or Dixon…these people might not survive."

I didn't say anything to that, I just nodded one last 'goodbye' and turned around. When I did, I could see Daryl doing the same, nodding respectfully at Jim. Daryl glanced at the road when everyone started their engines to their vehicles. He and I looked at each other once and we both headed for the truck, leaving Jim alone.

"Were you tellin' the truth," Daryl asked as we got in and followed the line of vehicles in front of us. "We're all infected?"

I nodded. "The CDC's a bad idea," I sighed in frustration.

"Why?"

"There's nothing there worthwhile," I scoffed. "Hell, even the scientist gives up and blows the place to smithereens. You guys almost get killed." I kept rambling. "But it's not like I could explain that to Rick or Shane, not without sounding like a mental patient. On second thought, I should've just told 'em it blows up, because they weren't heeding my subtle warning either way." I exhaled and stared out the window.

"Look," Daryl started. "I know I haven't called you crazy in a long time-"

I snapped my gaze to him. "You don't believe me!"

"You got any idea how you sound?!"

"Jeeze," I huffed. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Even if it does blow up, we all survive anyway, right? Otherwise you wouldn't be able to tell me all this."

I scowled at how logical that sounded. "Not all of us," I grumbled childishly. "Two people die," I said more seriously.

"Who," he asked.

I shook my head. "You never told me names."

He shrugged. "Either way, most of us get out of it alive."

I nodded tensely.

\-------

"Wow," I breathed as we all stared. "You can't say they didn't do their best."

The CDC stood before us in all its glory. It was surrounded by mounds of sandbags and broken blockades. And mass amounts of walker bodies and bullet shells littered the ground, posing as trip hazards. The government or whoever tried their best to protect the CDC, but, other than us, there wasn't a soul in sight.

Rick barely glanced at any of us as he led us forward determinedly. As soon we walked away from our vehicles, it was like it suddenly hit the group. Most of us were carrying weapons – even Ed, with a crowbar – while everyone else were pretty much hugging each other, hands over their mouths against the stench of the rotting bodies.

As I looked everyone over, I realized that Morales and his family where nowhere to be seen. I blinked, and glanced around again in confusion. They had survived the quarry attack. Where were they? Why weren't they here? I made a mental note to ask somebody about it later.

Daryl and I stayed close to each other. He had his crossbow at the ready, and I had my hand over my knife. As we passed some sandbags, I could see weaponry just on the other side of them. I was tempted to check for ammo, given how much was used last night, but I didn't want to get too far away from the group, not with everyone near the city like this.

I opted for checking over the bodies we passed, making sure they all had head wounds. Once Daryl saw what I was doing, he started to do the same, cautiously aiming his crossbow at a body, checking the head, and moving on to the next one. The last thing we needed was for an army of walkers to suddenly wake up.

As soon as we approached shuttered doors, Shane and Rick were on it, pushing and knocking against the metal. With every second that ticked by, the group grew more and more fearful. I tilted my head, wondering how they got in the first time.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog said with a tremor.

"Then why are these shutters down," Rick snapped.

"Walkers," Daryl suddenly hollered.

Terrified screams erupted from some of the women. I shook my head grimly as I turned around and watched Daryl shoot down a walker. As soon as it was dead, Daryl rounded on Rick.

"You shoulda listened to Layla," he shouted as he stomped over to him. "You led us into a graveyard!"

"He made a call," Shane shouted back.

"It was the wrong damn call!"

"Shut up," Shane roared, shoving him back. I gritted my teeth together and strode towards them. "You hear me!"

"Back the hell off, Shane," I said in a low voice as I put my arm between them.

"Just shut up," he shouted at Daryl once more. He turned around to stare at Rick. "Rick, this is a dead end."

"Where are we gonna go," Carol cried as she kept Sophia and Ed close, with Ed brushing her off.

"She's right," Lori said desperately. "We can't be here this close to the city after dark!"

My teeth were still gritted as I leaned my back apprehensively against a barricade. The group was now starting to talk about Fort Benning, but no one even sounded hopeful of that idea. Daryl glanced at me and leaned in.

"What do we do," he asked in a rush.

"I don't know," I hissed. "Somehow, someway, you guys end up inside or something. I'm useless right now." I noticed more walkers coming our way. "Except against those," I said getting out my knife.

"I'd rather you get your bow out," he muttered as he aimed his crossbow.

"And lose arrows," I said. "Too close to the city. Too many walkers near. What happens when I run out?"

He hummed under his breath and nodded as he slung his crossbow back over his shoulder. He took out his knife. As we took down some walkers, the group was beginning to get a move on for the vehicles.

"Let's make sure these guys have a path," I told Daryl. He glanced back at the group, then at the walkers, and then nodded at me.

"The camera," Rick suddenly exclaimed. "It moved!" And that's all he kept repeating despite others in the group telling him to leave with them.

Daryl and I stopped and looked at each other. "I think this is it," I said as we watched Rick observing a security camera.

"You sure," he asked.

"Nope."

We went to join the others, even though most of them were moving in our direction.

Rick was banging on the shutters. "I know you're in there," he yelled to the camera. "I know you can hear me! Please," he begged as the others shouted at him to get moving. "We're desperate. Please help us! We have women, children. No food. Hardly any gas left. We have nowhere else to go!"

"Keep your eyes open," Shane was yelling frantically to the group. "Layla, Daryl, take care of those walkers comin' our way!" He kept looking at the group and at Rick, at a loss as to what to do for his people, his friend.

Daryl and I glanced at the oncoming walkers, but we made no move yet. They were still a comfortable distance away.

"You're killing us," Rick was yelling at the top of his lungs as Shane tried to drag him away. "Please!" The more Rick hollered, the more riled and loud the walkers were becoming.

All the while, the group was conflicted between staying with Rick and Shane, or heading to the vehicles.

"Shit," I breathed. "I've never seen 'em this panicked."

Daryl flexed his grip on his knife as his eyes darted back to the approaching walkers. Thankfully, these ones were slow, and were still a good distance away. He looked away to stare at the group and their indecisive behavior. He scoffed. "Still think they're gonna grow up?"

I rolled my eyes at him.

"You're killing us! You're killing us!" Rick sobbed as he finally let Shane tear him away.

Just as he turned around, the shutters shrieked as they opened and we were bathed in harsh, white light. Everyone fell silent, not quite believing what they were seeing.

Shane was the first to speak. "You two cover the back," he said to Daryl and I as we all made our way inside to a clean lobby.

"Hello," Rick said as he gazed around. "Hello?"

"Close those doors," a voice said. "Watch for walkers."

"Hello," Rick asked again.

The cocking of a gun echoed, making everyone raise their weapons in the direction of the sound. A man stood at the end of a hall, pointing an assault rifle our way.

"Anybody infected," he asked, loud enough for all of us to hear.

"One of our group was," Rick breathed. "He didn't make it."

The man took a cautious step towards us. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance," Rick stuttered.

"That's asking an awful lot these days," he said to him.

"I know."

The man looked over each and every one of us, deliberating. Despite the intimidating weapon, there was only fear in his eyes, not violence.

"Him," he suddenly asked, pointing to Ed. "He's in rough shape. Is he bit?"

Ed scoffed and grumbled a curse under his breath.

"Naw," Shane responded. "Just an…altercation."

I narrowed my eyes at him. It made sense if Shane was the one who gave Ed those injuries. Two different explosives coming together.

The man paused before speaking again. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission." Rick agreed. "You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed," he said quickly, pointing to where we just came in through.

"Whoever goes out, I'll cover them," I said.

Rick nodded at me, then pointed at Glenn, Shane, and Daryl to follow us. As soon as they were ready, I ran out the door, keeping a couple feet ahead of them. I stabbed walkers and shoved them sideways, creating a pathway so no one would trip over any bodies. As soon as we got to the vehicles, I made sure the guys were accounted for, that they'd all kept pace.

As they started gathering all that they could carry, I swiftly made circles around the vehicles, as it was impossible to keep all of them in my sights at once as they went from car to car. Normally, I would've stood still and just waited for growling, but all of the walkers in the area were starting to take notice of us. The growling was echoing and coming from too many directions, even though we weren't even swarmed yet.

Just as I was stabbing a walker for coming too close to the sidewalk, Daryl whistled. As soon as we made eye contact, he tossed me my backpack. Tediously, I had to remove my bow from my shoulders in order to put my backpack on.

I saw another walker stumbling towards us, specifically me. I put my bow between my teeth, and then secured my supplies on my back. When the walker reached out for me, I gripped my bow and swung it upside the walker's head, making it fall to the ground. After placing my bow back around my shoulders, I brought my knife back out and stabbed before it could get back up. Daryl whistled again. Everyone now had their supplies and were waiting anxiously for me to get ahead of them.

As soon as we got to the doors again, I stepped sideways, staying outside until everyone got in safely.

"Vi," the man said to a PIN pad. "Seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."

I was fine with the door being closed. However, I was not fine when the shutter came back down. As soon as the shutter got to the floor, I felt my heart pick up speed. I took a shaky breath as I stared at it. Rubbing my hand over my eyes, I plucked at my bowstring, trying to focus on its thrum and not the sound of the door sealing.

I jumped when something touched my elbow. Daryl was staring closely into my eyes, eyebrows together in concern.

"I'm fine," I muttered. "It'll pass. It's not like we're in a car, so it shouldn't be too bad. Gimme a few seconds."

He frowned, not completely convinced, but he nodded once.

"Everyone," Rick said to all of us. He nodded at the man. "This is Dr. Edwin Jenner."

"We'll all head to the elevator," Jenner said. "It'll take us down into the main research part of the facility."

Daryl got close to my ear. "How're you with elevators," he asked.

"Interesting enough, fine," I shrugged. "I won't like the tight space with all of us being crammed in there, but…I think of it like a rollercoaster, except slow and unsatisfying." I paused. "That's what she said."

Daryl snorted and smirked, and we followed everyone.

The elevator was not made for as many people as there were. We all had to practically stand on each other's feet in order to be in the space. The only upside was how close Daryl and I were. I had one of my shoulders tight against a corner, with Daryl pressed against my other side. It was easy to focus on Daryl's body heat in order to ignore everyone's closeness.

"Doctors always goin' around packin' heat like that," Daryl said to Jenner.

"Oh," he said simply, glancing at his rifle. "There were plenty left around. I familiarized myself." He swept his gaze over everyone. "But you look harmless enough…Except you," he said to Carl with a smile. "I'll have to keep my eye on you."

The elevator finally came to a stop, and we exited into a hallway. As soon as everyone gave each other space, I felt like I could finally breathe. I was turning my neck to give it a crack when Daryl glanced at me. I gave him a thumbs-up. He nodded and we walked on.

Ever detail oriented, Daryl had always been observant of me. But I wouldn't have guessed that this Daryl would be the same way, especially with how stand-offish he was when I first met him.

"Are we underground," Carol asked at some point.

"You claustrophobic," Jenner asked her.

"A little."

"Try not to think about," he said bluntly. I smirked, enjoying his straightforward way of speaking.

My smirk faded when I unintentionally glanced at Ed. I looked away, keeping my gaze straight ahead. Ed hadn't said a word or made much movement since we got here. He stayed at his family's side, kept a grip on his crowbar, glared at everyone, but did nothing else. I flexed my jaw and frowned.

He was forcing himself to behave, not wanting to get another beating and not wanting to get knocked to the ground by me. That was disconcerting because it meant that I had no way of anticipating if he was to try anything else with anyone. To me, he was no longer predictable


	15. Drained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual assault and aftermath in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual assault and aftermath in this chapter.

"I'm it," Jenner said to us stoically, his voice echoing in the empty control room. "It's just me here."

"What about the person you were speaking with," Lori asked. "Vi?"

"Vi," Jenner announced as he stared at us. "Say 'hello' to our guests. Tell them…'welcome'."

" _Hello guests_ ," a feminine, automated voice echoed. " _Welcome_."

I was leaning my elbows on the railing that led towards the main part of the room, only paying attention with mild interest. I mostly just wanted to get all of this over with and get the hell out of there. Scowling impatiently, I realized it was finally time for me to play _time traveler_ and just go with the flow.

"I'm all that's left," Jenner said quietly. "I'm sorry." He turned away from us.

I glanced at Rick. He was frozen to the spot, and only occasionally sparing a glance at his surroundings.

"This wasn't what you were expecting," Jenner said when he realized none of us were following him. "But to be fair, no one was expecting the end of the world to look quite like this, so…" He cleared his throat. "I believe I have everyone scheduled for a blood test. If you'll follow me…"

He led us into some sort of presentation room. At the front of the room was a whiteboard with some scientific mumbo-jumbo written on it that I couldn't follow. Daryl and I took the steps along the side of the room and sat up in the back row of seats, giving us an entire view of the room.

"I need to grab some medical supplies," Jenner said. "Make yourselves comfortable."

When Jenner left, all eyes fell on Rick. I snorted at everyone's desperation. We were here, the building was secure. What else where they expecting of Rick?

Rick rubbed his hand over his face before speaking. "Jenner was right," he said to all of us. "We were expectin' this place to be full of scientists and workers. We were expectin' to find answers immediately. That's not the case." Rick pointed at the door Jenner left out of. "But he's still here. And we're still alive."

"Jim's not," Jacqui muttered, making everyone go silent.

"Or Amy," Andrea whispered.

"Or Morales' people," I said.

"Morales and his family chose to go their own way after the attack," Rick explained to me, and then addressed everyone as a whole again. "And I can't take back what happened to Jim or Amy," he said gently. "But their deaths aren't gonna be in vain. We're here now…And we're gonna move forward. Hopefully…things'll be better now."

I resisted the urge to sarcastically slow clap, and by the scowl on Daryl's face I could tell he was also not buying it. Although, I had to give Rick credit; he always knew how to spin a good motivational speech.

Jenner returned with needles, bandages, and other such stuff. "I have to get everyone's names as we go, to keep track," Jenner explained as he set the stuff on a table and got two chairs. One for himself, and another for one of us. He nodded at Andrea. "What's your name?"

"Andrea," she said.

"You wanna go a first," he asked, smirking slightly. "I'd ask for volunteers, but let's face it, I've never known a single soul who actually volunteers first."

She slapped her hands on her knees and sighed in exasperation as she got up. She sat in front of Jenner and offered her arm. I flexed my jaw. Despite their arrogance, Amy and Andrea had kept each other balanced and grounded. With Amy now gone, I could tell, just by her fed-up body language, that Andrea was not doing well in the slightest.

"What's the point," she grumbled. "If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever."

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here," Jenner said. "Let me just at least be thorough." He wrote something down – more than likely her name – on a vacutainer. "All done."

Jacquie helped her as she swayed a little.

"You okay," Jenner asked.

"She hasn't eaten in days," Jacqui responded as she led her to a chair. "None of us have."

Jenner glanced at all of us with sympathy. "Well," he nodded. "After I collect all of your blood samples, we can change that."

Everyone, who had been rather disappointed by the turn of events, suddenly perked up at the prospect of food, murmuring encouragingly to each other. Daryl and I looked at each other and shrugged. Food did not sound half bad at all, considering neither of us had had any successful hunting in the last twenty-four hours.

Jenner continued the process of asking for peoples' names and taking blood. I curled a knee to my chest to rest my chin on it, feeling my eyes droop. I almost pitched forward I was so tired. I blinked rapidly. Letting my rear scoot to the edge of the chair, I reclined against the seatback as far as I could. I glanced at Daryl, who had pretty much done the same thing in his own seat. Every now and then his eyes would drift shut, and then he would blink them open again and stare at the ceiling. Even though yesterday had been a hard day in general, everyone in this room had gotten more sleep than we did.

I shifted closer to Daryl and slowly let my shoulder lean against his. Still staring at the ceiling, he breathed deeply and leaned in kind. My head fell back against the wall, eyes falling shut again. I sighed contentedly when his hand curled around mine, locking our fingers together.

I started when I felt a nudge from Daryl. "What," I muttered as I forced my eyes open.

Daryl nodded in Jenner's direction.

"Alright," Jenner said to Daryl and I. "You two are the last ones."

Fuck.

With an apprehensive growl, I lifted my head from Daryl's shoulder – When had I done that? – and we both stood up and made our way down the steps.

Daryl slumped down onto the chair and let Jenner do his thing. Daryl's face remained neutral, if not just slightly annoyed. The only other expression was an ever-so-slight wince from when the needle was inserted. Jenner was organizing his equipment with one hand while he had the other hand on Daryl's arm to keep the needle in place. It took all my willpower not to pace. It took all my willpower to not rush from the room altogether.

He bandaged Daryl's arm. Daryl stood up and went to sit at the front row. I glared at the now empty seat. "What's your name," Jenner asked as he took out the supplies for my blood work.

"Layla," I said through clenched teeth.

"Take a seat, Layla," he said. "You're the last one."

"Yipee," I grumbled and sat. "Just walk me through what you're doing. Step. By. Step."

"Can do," he said with an idle nod. "Just getting out the alcohol."

I could feel myself quickly disassociating, my mind already trying to distract me for what Jenner was going to have to do. I crashed back into reality when he touched my elbow and applied rubbing alcohol onto my skin. I jumped so hard my knee slammed off the leg of the table.

"Jesus Christ," I screeched involuntarily, making Jenner let go of my arm in shock. "I said walk me through it, damn it!"

"I just told you I was getting out the alcohol," Jenner said, eyebrows knitting together.

"Looks like we finally found somethin' you're afraid of, Layla," Shane snickered.

I flipped him off and mouthed, 'Fuck you.'

Shane's snickering turned into clearing his throat and sobering. It wasn't in reaction to my insult, but because Daryl was sitting only a couple chairs away and was glaring him down.

"Now," Jenner continued. "I gotta find a vein."

That's when he started fully grasping my elbow and using his other hand to tap the inside of my arm. My eyes slammed shut and I had to force my body to not recoil from his touch. I only managed to lean as far away as I could.

"Your veins are not easy," Jenner said, tone apologetic as he continued the tapping. "You're really not a fan of needles, are you,"

I swallowed harshly, eyes still closed and not really caring if my entire body was shaking at that point. All I was focused on was keeping myself glued to the seat to get it over with. I was going against every instinct that my body was currently screaming at me.

"It's not," I croaked. "the needle I'm worried about."

I absolutely hated how much he was touching me for something so simple and clinical, but what I hated more was how I must've looked to the rest of the group. I wasn't facing any of them, but I certainly felt all their eyes on me.

With determination that I knew was doomed to fail, I forced my eyes open to try and plaster on a brave face. I blinked, not expecting to be staring directly into blue eyes. Daryl had pulled up a chair directly in front of me, and was now only inches away from my face. He was staring closely into my eyes. At first, his expression was very neutral, and then his eyebrows scrunched. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it.

I tilted my head. 'What?'

He only hummed thoughtfully, flexing his jaw and not taking his eyes off of mine.

"What," I asked, out loud this time.

"Alright, Layla," Jenner suddenly announced, making me tear my eyes away from Daryl. "You can relax. You're done." He looked around at everyone with a smile and stood up. "All of you are. I think someone mentioned food?" Everyone started talking enthusiastically, but I didn't hear a word anyone said, too focused on something else.

I stared at the bandage on my arm where Jenner had just taken my blood without me noticing. Eyes wide, I snapped my gaze back to Daryl to see him smirking widely.

"You sneaky son of a bitch," I murmured, making him snicker. "No, seriously," I said with a growing smile as we stood up. "How the hell did you do that?"

He simply shrugged, still smiling. "Come on," he said, letting me walk ahead of him. "Don't know about you, but I'm starvin'."

"God, me too," I sighed. "But seriously," I said, turning around and stopping us both. I crossed my arms, knowing full well my hands were still shaking. I looked down at the floor. "Thank you. I…hate being stuck in my own head like that."

So gently that I almost didn't feel it, he untangled one of my arms to hold and look at one of my trembling hands.

Seeing his frown, I clutched his hand for a second before crossing my arms again. "It'll stop eventually…The shaking, I mean." I shrugged. "Not much I can do for it."

His frown managed to deepen, almost into a scowl, but he nodded.

We made our way to a cafeteria. When T-Dog and Carol saw the kitchen area, they both enthusiastically offered to help Jenner to, as T-Dog put it, 'Make a feast fit for a survivor…survi _vors_ '. Everyone else got involved, looking for plates, cutlery, cooking tools, anything to speed up the process so we could all eat.

The only ones not part of it were Carl, Sophia, Ed, and Andrea.

I hummed and asked Jenner if he had any butcher paper and stuff to write with. He handed me a large roll of the paper and pointed to a drawer that had some pens and highlighters. I took all of it over to the kids and laid it in front of them. As soon as they saw what I had, they smiled, unrolled the paper, and started a rather competitive game of tic-tac-toe.

I glanced at Ed and Andrea as I started to walk away.

Ed, as per usual, did nothing. He stared off into space, fidgeting with an empty glass, as if expecting a bartender to dutifully fill it for him. Andrea, however, surprised me. She was prissy, but never shied away from helping. But there she sat, staring down at her laced fingers as if in prayer. Her eyes were tired, almost dead.

I cleared my throat, trying to be sympathetic. "Do you, uh, want anything to…um…"

Her chuckle was devoid of emotion. "Layla," she said slowly, not looking at me. "We both know you suck at being around people. So, do what you're good at…and go away."

I pursed my lips and nodded, trying not to be offended because…well, she really wasn't wrong.

Ed perked his head up as I passed by him. "'Ey," he mumbled expressionlessly, raising his glass. "While you're offerin'-"

I rolled my eyes and kept on walking. I went behind the counter, and watched everyone with amusement. They all moved around with newfound energy that was almost contagious. T-Dog especially, because he had a saucepan in his hands and was pretending to be a fancy chef, giving the meat in the pan a flourishing flip. Those of us that were nearby laughed when he nearly dropped everything on the floor.

"Don't waste it, T," Jacqui smirked. "We're hungry. Remember?"

"What," T-Dog said, looking wounded. "We can't do dinner _and_ a show?"

I chuckled and went over to the sink that was quickly filling with dirty cooking tools. "You got running water, Jenner," I asked him.

He nodded, standing off to the side to watch everyone's antics. "Don't worry about the dishes, though," he said. "There's a dishwasher right beside you."

I shook my head as I took a sponge and some dish soap and got to work. "It's no big deal." Truthfully, I enjoyed doing dishes. It was a repetitive task that was easy for me to get lost in. The more dishes there were, the less of an obligation to focus on other things.

"What do you got to drink around here, doc," Daryl said as he poked around in the cupboards.

Jenner cleared his throat. Daryl turned around and caught the key that was thrown at him. Jenner pointed down a hallway. "There's an office over that way that has a stash of wine locked away," he said with a slight smirk. "For special occasions."

"Oh," Carol closed her eyes as she stirred a pot of soup. "That sounds heavenly, Jenner."

"Y'all heard the man," T-Dog hollered enthusiastically. "It's a party now!"

When the food was finally cooked, everything was placed on the table. Daryl arrived back, arms full of wine bottles. Everyone cheered as Daryl, Carol, and Dale started pouring the liquid into everyone's glasses. I sat on a countertop a foot away from the dining table and shook my head at everyone, finding it hilarious that they were starving, but the allure of alcohol was stronger.

Daryl sat beside me, poured a glass, and tried handing it to me.

"Keep passing it," I chuckled.

"You sure," he asked me with a grin. He took a swig straight from the bottle. "Ain't that bad."

I shook my head. "I can't stand alcohol. Give it to somebody who'll actually appreciate it."

He raised a brow at me as he downed the glass. "What's your favorite AC/DC song again?"

I laughed.

"Come on, Layla," Dale smiled. "Live a little. You know, in Italy," Dale said as he looked at Lori and Carl. "Children…have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France!" He handed Lori a glass. Taking it, Lori used her other hand to stop Dale from pouring one into her son's glass.

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France," Lori said. "He can have some then."

"What's it gonna hurt, come on," Rick smirked. When Lori hesitated, he chuckled, "Come on!"

Lori shook her head and then shrugged dramatically, making everyone cheer.

"There you are, young lad," Dale handed him the glass.

We all fell silent as Carl took a slow sip.

His face screwed up. "Ew!"

Laughter resonated.

I was laughing, too, for a while. However, the more people laughed, and talked, and literally bumped elbows or knees with each other as they passed things around, the more crowded I became. I zoned out, trying to drown out the loudness. No harm was being done, no drama was being kicked up, and it was a grand ol' time. I slowly downed the last of my food, not really tasting it at that point.

"I'm gonna go explore," I said to Daryl as I hopped down from the counter. "Hey, Jenner! Any restricted areas I should avoid?"

"Oh, come on, Layla," a couple people exclaimed.

"It's a party," Dale said to me, face red. "Mingle."

Shane barely glanced back at me, his voice rough from the alcohol. "You know, we still don't know nothin' about you…Tell us somethin'."

I glared briefly at him before returning my attention to our host. "Jenner?"

Jenner nodded. "It'll say if it's restricted. And any door that's locked needs to remain locked."

I gave him a mock-salute and left the cafeteria. Before I got very far, I heard that ever familiar voice. "Y'alright?"

I smirked and turned around. "I feel like you ask me that a lot."

Daryl shrugged and set the bottle on a shelf next to him.

"And, yeah," I said. "It's just…not my scene. Loud party. Ton of people in one room like that." I nodded down the hall. "I'm gonna do what I said. Explore."

He shifted on his feet, probably a little tipsy from the wine. "You want company?"

My smile was tight. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't say no. But I could use some alone time." The sound of a cork echoed as someone opened another bottle. I walked over to him, getting so close I could feel his breath gently ghosting across my face. I took the bottle off the shelf and handed it back to him. "Go enjoy yourself. And don't deny that you are!"

He snorted lightly. He placed his hand over mine, but didn't take the bottle yet. "You, uh," he gestured with his other hand to my weapons holstered in my belt. "Keep your knife close. Just in case."

I smiled warmly at him. "My weapons aren't going anywhere," I said. His fingers slipped through mine as he took the bottle, until we were no longer touching. "I'll see in you a while."

There wasn't much to see, honestly. A rec room, some more presentation rooms, some conference rooms, some classrooms for newbies and interns, plenty of tempting restricted areas, and one basement.

The basement was sort of interesting. Plenty of empty generators, and empty kegs with 'Flammable' stamped on them. I exhaled as I stared at the fuel gauge of the remaining generator. Jenner did not have much power left.

"Hopefully, Daryl's right," I said to myself. "And we all make it out alive. Although," I continued as I started walking back up the steps. "If it had to happen, dying in an explosion is a badass way to go."

I eventually found the control room again. The lights turned on as I entered. The eerie, lonely silence of the empty room was music to my ears. I stretched my arms above my head, and then made my way to the computers. I tapped on some keyboards, clicked some mice, but screens remained blank.

"Hey, Vi," I said. "Can you hear me?"

" _Yes, I can hear you_ ," the technological voice responded.

"Do I have permission to turn on a computer," I asked. "I haven't played Paint or Pinball in ages."

" _I cannot grant you access to any computers unless you have a personal identification number_."

"Okay," I nodded. "How do I get a personal identification number?"

" _Your personal identification number is chosen when your identification card is made_."

"Thanks," I said with a scowl. "Real helpful."

Before walking out, I leaned against one of the desks and gazed up at the red digital numbers that had been counting down since we arrived. I could take a wild guess as to what it was counting down to. I tilted my head. It was more than likely also connected to the lack of fuel in the generators. Maybe that's what would cause this place to blow. No fuel, no security, no reason to stay intact.

I sighed through my nose, shook my head and walked away, not wanting to think anymore about it.

I made my way back to the cafeteria to find it completely deserted. The table had been cleared and the kitchen was devoid of any evidence of cooking. That was because it was all in the sink. I went over and got to work on the dishes. After they'd been done, I kept the water running. I rinsed off my knife, bow, and arrows. It was many minutes later when they were all finally cleaned of dried blood and dirt. And after a couple passes with my knife through the sharpener, I left the kitchen.

Jenner appeared at the end of the hallway I entered.

"Hey, Jenner," I said. "Where is everyone?"

"Sleeping," he explained. "There are rooms just around the corner. Across from those rooms are bathrooms and showers stocked with clean clothes." He walked passed me. "Have a good night, Layla," was all he said before disappearing. I shrugged at his clipped attitude, not finding much offense by it considering he was going to waste this place soon. He was the only CDC worker left, so destroying the place would weigh on anyone's conscience.

I turned the corner where Jenner directed me to go.

"Oof," I huffed as I accidentally knocked into someone. "Sorry, Shane. Didn't hear you coming."

Shane simply stared at me, breathing heavily through his nose and sweat matting his forehead. I narrowed my eyes at the three long scratches near his jaw. Then, I snorted.

"So," I smirked jokingly. "Ed finally hand it back to you? Personally, I didn't see him as a scratcher. More of a puncher."

He stared at me for a long second, trying to process my words through his drunk-addled mind. With a growl, he surged forward, hand clasping around my throat as he shoved me against the wall.

"Jesus," I hissed, trying to breath. "How drunk are you? Scale of 'one' to 'fucked up'."

"You know," he slurred, chuckling uneasily. "You-you know, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of everyone's attitude, I'm tired of-of everyone's bullshit, I'm tired of _your_ bullshit," he exclaimed quickly, stepping towards me further, closing any gap we had between us. "Ever since you came around, everyone's been lookin' to your for stuff, for protection, f-for food."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Last I checked," I said, straining to gulp down air around his hand. "It's my damned job."

He nodded. "Your damned job," he mumbled, a smirk and an intense frown mixing and twisting up his face. "It ain't your damned job to be fuckin' around with Dixon."

"Jesus Christ," I rolled my eyes. I had a grip on his arm, but I didn't make a move yet. Everyone was asleep in this very hall and I didn't want to cause a scene and wake everyone up. I had to wait and see where Shane was going with this, wait and see whether I had to hand his ass to him.

Shane kept on rambling. "'Cause it was your job to keep us safe. And then one of tho-those monsters snuck in our camp. And where were you? Huntin' with Dixon. And then, Christ, you had to go on that stupid fuckin' Merle rescue mission, and what happens? We get an entire fuckin' army of walkers rainin' down us." With every word he spoke, his hand tightened around my throat, until I wasn't sure whether I was even breathing at this point.

He got even closer, nose almost brushing my cheek as the alcohol on his breath made my eyes burn. "You weren't huntin'. You weren't on a rescue mission." He chuckled. Then, with a growl, he jerked my neck, making the back of my head knock into the wall. "Did you like it? Huh? All that alone time with Daryl fuckin' Dixon. I bet he gives it to you rough, like an animal. You don't want that alone time with me?"

I felt my body lock up and my eyes slam shut, suddenly very aware of where all this bullshit was going. "I am giving you," I growled slowly through gritted teeth. "three seconds…to let…me…go…"

He scoffed. He closed his eyes, and inhaled as he brushed his nose against my hairline.

With a snarl, I curled my knee up, slammed it against his ribs, and bent my elbow to jam it into his face. It did nothing. Not only was I up against a cop, I was up against a violent, drunk cop. He held me fast, keeping my knee bent against his ribs. My one hand was bent painfully behind my back, and the other raised high above my head. I suppressed a whimper as I struggled against him, the angle stretching my spine.

With a frustrated growl, he yanked until both my arms were above my head, raising me onto my toes. Keeping my wrists in a single grip, his other hand snaked under my shirt, brushing against my stomach, ribs, and then clasping around my back as he pressed our torsos together. His lips were on mine, trying to work them open. 

I didn't know how I was thinking straight, didn't know how I wasn't spiraling, how I was even remotely lucid to come up with the plan that came to mind.

My eyes clenched shut. I opened my mouth wide, allowing his disgusting tongue inside. I bit down on his lower jaw. Hard. He cried out, and started scrambling. I did not let go until he was putting in every effort to get away.

When I did let him go, he nearly stumbled backwards onto the floor. I stood there, panting, staring at the mark forming over the lower half of his face. With rage I'd never seen from him before, he stared down at one my hands.

I was clenching the hilt of my knife, in the process of taking it out of my belt. Grinding my teeth together, I forced my hand to let go. I had every right to kill him, but there were too many variables, and I no longer wanted to be anywhere near him.

I pushed off from the wall, and didn't stop until I was inches from his face.

"You ever touch me again, in any way," I whispered. "I will rip your throat out with my bare teeth. That bite I just gave you, oh…That's nothing compared to what I can really do." I bared my teeth, gritting them together. "Get…out of here."

We stared at each other, both of us shaking. Him, out of anger and defeat. Me, out of barely concealed terror. Barely taking his eyes off mine, he staggered around me, found his room, and slammed the door behind him.

I gasped and put my hands on my knees before stumbling to one of the bathrooms. I went straight for the sink. Shoving my face under the faucet, I let freezing cold water run over my eyes, face, and into my mouth. I was spitting every few seconds, nearly choking on the lingering taste of alcohol and Shane. Normally, when my PTSD hit, I couldn't always feel myself shaking, but...

My entire body, from my scalp to my toenails, shook uncontrollably. I resigned myself to the freezing temperature of the water because my hands couldn't get a grasp on the knobs at all.

"Son of a bitch," I cried in sheer frustration as I slammed my hand down against one of the knobs with bruising force. I only succeeded in turning the water off completely.

The water stopped running over my face. The temperature of my skin was no longer freezing. The bathroom was now totally silent. The silence was jarring.

Quickly, I went to the shower and yanked at the knobs until the water hissed to life. Not bothering to remove my clothes, I jumped in. I stared down at my hands. They shook so terribly that my arms and shoulder blades began to ache. My vision blurred and my hands fell away. I kept my focus down, hardly seeing the dirt, grime, and old walker blood racing down the drain.

I let my head fall forward to meet the wall. I tried so hard, tried so desperately to suppress any and all thoughts that tried to come to mind. I just wanted everything to be one big fucking blank.

I failed.

Being dragged into a car. Shane's attack. Everything merged. A single sadistic nightmare.

_Pinning me down._

_Hands against my skin._

_Stench of alcohol._

_Arms raised above my head._

_The doors of the CDC locking._

My knees gave out and I fell. I didn't care that my head nearly cracked on the shower floor. I didn't care that I was no longer breathing. I didn't care that my weapons were poking against me and getting saturated by the water. I didn't care that my clothes were practically suffocating me.

I curled up into a ball, and I did what I always did. I waited for the nightmare to be over so I could pick my ass off the ground and move on with my day.

I whimpered as tremors wracked my body. I curled myself into the tightest ball I could manage, trying to force it all to stop. Spots danced in and out of my vision as oxygen came and went. With a cry of sheer helplessness that I couldn't bear, I crossed arms and bit down on my own skin. Not enough to bleed or hurt, but enough to feel it, feel anything other than this shit.

I tried desperately to realign my thoughts, to get mind over matter. All I could see was the interior of the car, the feel of lips shoved against mine, skin on skin, trapped against the wall. I released a tearless sob as another round of tremors hit.

I was terrified. I couldn't control any of it, couldn't make it stop, couldn't bring myself back, couldn't-

"That you in there, Layla?" Daryl's voice drowned out everything, making it all halt so quickly that I almost got whiplash.

I gasped exhaustedly, my body sagging on the floor. "W-what," I huffed against my own skin that I was still biting, not sure if I was talking to myself or Daryl's voice.

"It's me," he said from the hallway. I could just barely make out his words over the sound of the shower. "I'ma head to bed. Our room's five doors down."

"Okay," I muttered lifelessly.

The spots in my vision cleared, and I could feel my body beginning to breath naturally, but I didn't chance uncurling myself. I took my teeth off my skin and allowed my temple to fall next to the drain. The water coming off me now ran clear. I could also feel clearer thoughts returning, able to think straighter. Actually, I was so drained that I couldn't focus on anything except for what was in front of me; falling water and the tiled floor.

With a pained groan, I finally relaxed my fetal position to remove all of my weapons and toss them carelessly out of the shower stall. When that was taken care of and I no longer felt the pain of being jabbed at by my own arrows, I was then made aware of my shirt collar clinging to my throat. I was still lying on the floor, but I managed to remove all of my clothes one by one. I threw them, letting them join my weapons.

I was so heavily spaced out that 'disassociation' couldn't even begin to cover it. I felt as though I didn't exist on this dimensional plane. Which was fine by me; I didn't want to feel anything except the water rushing over me.

Getting tired of looking at this angle of the shower, my eyes drifted until they landed on the bright colors of the soap dispensers within the stall. Groaning, I got my hands underneath me and pushed. I didn't get very far, just enough to sit up and prop my back against the wall. Numbly, I reached for the dispensers, until the sweet aroma bombarded me.

My nose crinkled, but I still spread it over my hands, then over my arms, legs, and everywhere else. I wasn't trying to wash anything away at that point as the water had already taken care of it. However, it was an excuse to prolong things, to stay in that shower and do nothing else. Feel nothing else.

I let my head sag as I watched the soap race away, and the warm water began to turn cold. With a bitter huff, I pushed myself to my feet to turn the knobs off, my legs trembling to hold me up.

I carefully exited the shower, and walked over to the drawers once I saw them. Picking a random shirt and pants, I slipped them on. I gathered up my belt and weapons, tossed the old, soaking wet clothes into a garbage bin, and slipped out into the hallway.

My eyes immediately gravitated to the spot where Shane had pinned me and I had to force my eyes shut just to ignore the rising panic. Turning away, I made my feet walk. I counted the doors as I went, until I got to the one Daryl said. Had he said that? Did even talk to me? Or did my head do a real good job of creating his voice in the moment?

I got my answer when I opened the door to see Daryl sprawled out on the bed. I closed the door quietly and set my stuff down on the floor next to the couch.

Keeping my eyes on Daryl, I bit my lip. Clearing my throat did nothing because my voice still came out sounding like a mess. "Hey," I rasped quietly.

The only movement from him was his chest rising and falling serenely, completely passed out. I didn't know I was reaching to him until my knees touched the edge of the bed. I jerked and took a step back as if burned. I scolded myself harshly. Turning back to the couch, I shoved the blankets and pillows off and lied down, facing the seatback. I didn't close my eyes.

I knew why I wanted to wake up Daryl, knew why I needed him. But where was I to start? How was the conversation even going to go? I'll tell you how it was going to go, with every single one of Daryl's crossbow bolts sticking out of Shane's body.

I shook my head. I wasn't afraid of telling Daryl what had just happened. I was afraid this would fuck things up with his perspective of these people. Daryl had a great time today, had a great time with everyone. If I told him about Shane, that would be it. He wouldn't want anything to do with this group ever again. Which didn't make sense given that no one had anything to do with what Shane just did. However, I knew Daryl wouldn't give two shits, and deem we leave.

If he asked that of me right now, I didn't think I would say 'no' to that at all. I resisted the urge to curl in on myself. I didn't want to be within a hundred mile radius of this place anymore.

I wanted to tell Daryl. I wasn't sure how my PTSD was going to be from here on out, and I needed his support more than anything, especially if I lost my mind and had a go at Shane. Daryl would be the only one able to hold me back. However, if I told Daryl…Let's face it, he'd get to Shane before I could. Neither I nor Rick would be able to stop him.

Rick, though it was never said out loud, was now the leader of the group, his best friend being the previous leader. They treated each other like brothers. And while Rick was not unreasonable, if me or Daryl did anything to Shane…

Rick was an emotional person. Even if there was reasoning behind what we did – if we did anything – we would always be known as the ones who killed his best friend.

However, the biggest factor was the bond Daryl was going to have with the group. And I did not want to mess that up. _I distinctly remember telling him, 'Let's hope I don't fuck up, then.'_ , I thought with a bitter snort.

"Jesus," I hissed exhaustedly. I was going round and round inside my own head, with no end in sight.


	16. Round and Round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all for your support and reviews. I always love constructive criticism. Also, once again, a thank you to my editor, who is the most opinionated person I know and keeps my writing grounded.
> 
> Also, the website glitched, and some of the italics got messed up, so I had to do a lot of editing. It should all be fixed, but there may be some misplaced italics. For that, I apologize.
> 
> **Warning** : Mention of suicide in this chapter.

And I went round and round until morning, though it seemed like no time had passed at all.

I was still facing the seatback when I heard the bed shift, and then the lamp flicked on. Daryl yawned loudly, and the floor creaked as he got to his feet.

There was a pause, and then he started shuffling towards me. I closed my eyes to feign sleep.

There was a sound of fabric bunching and I had to make an effort to not scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. I almost jumped when a blanket quietly fell over me. Then, Daryl walked away and shut the door behind him.

The sounds of a shower running met my ears. It ran for several minutes.

When I shifted onto my back to stare at the ceiling, the bedroom door opened again. In came Daryl, hair wet and new clean clothes. _But still sleeveless_ , I thought with a light smirk. When our eyes met, he walked over to me.

"Mornin," he grunted, rubbing at his eyes and glaring at the lamp, even though he was the one who turned it on.

I raised a brow at him. "Hungover," I asked with a grin, my voice still raspy.

"Pfft," he grumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed, facing me. "I ain't no lightweight." He looked over my face. "Didn't get sleep?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "No," I tried to reply casually. "Not a wink."

"You're a night owl," he shrugged. "Now that it's mornin', why don't you give it another try." He glanced around. "Safest place we've had in ages. Now'd be the time to actually get rest." He stood up. "Take the bed. I'll save you some breakfast."

Except it wasn't the safest place we had. No place was safe. In here, the outside world, the walkers, the people…Safe wasn't part of the vocabulary anymore. We would always have situations that held a razor's edge, including the people themselves. No matter what happened, no matter who we meet, no matter who we surrounded ourselves with, there would always be situations and people that could hurt us.

I stubbornly ground my teeth together. Going off of that logic, there would always be Shanes in this world. It didn't make sense not to tell Daryl about it. At least then we could figure out a plan together. I just didn't know how he was going to take it. Badly, more than likely. Convincing him not to kill Shane would be the hardest part.

"Daryl," I started.

The bedroom door closed behind him as he left to go get breakfast, having not heard me say his name. My head fell back on the couch cushions with an irritated sigh. Irritated at myself.

Knowing I wasn't going to get any sleep anyway, I stood up and stretched. My muscles protested painfully. I put my belt on, tucked my knife into it, and left my other weapons in the room as I went to catch up with Daryl. I entered the cafeteria, seeing most of the group already gathered around for breakfast.

"Hey," Rick said as someone else walked in behind me. I froze as Shane nearly brushed me going by.

"Hey," Shane mumbled back as he went over to the coffee maker.

I forced myself to breathe and shook my head to ease the anxiety. Shane wasn't going away anytime soon. I would have to deal with it, and I couldn't show any fear. I spotted Daryl leaning against the countertop and eating his fill.

I tuned out Rick as he tried to make light conversation with Shane, and walked over to Daryl. "Thought you were goin' back to sleep. Here," Daryl said, handing me a slice of bacon off his plate.

I shook my head. "After breakfast I need to talk to you about something," I muttered so only he could hear.

He tilted his head. "You okay?"

I bit my lip. "Not…entirely. At all, actually."

He searched my face for several seconds. It was a habit he'd always had when trying to problem solve a person. Some found it intimidating, but not me. I also had the same habit at times. He nodded once and handed me his plate while he went to fix another for himself. I set the plate on the counter, zero appetite.

"The hell happened to you," T-Dog suddenly spoke up. He was staring at Shane. "Your face."

Shane sat down at the table, the dim light hitting him and revealing the three strikingly long scratches on his neck and the angry crescent-shaped bruise around the lower half of his face.

"I musta done it in my sleep," Shane sighed groggily.

Everyone looked at Shane's injuries with wide eyes.

"Never seen you do that before," Rick said. "They're big marks. You sure?"

Shane took a gulp of coffee, and hummed. "Dunno," he mumbled. "Maybe I stumbled and fell goin' to bed last night. We all got pretty hammered."

Though everyone wasn't convinced, they couldn't do much else except shrug. Everyone except for Lori, who had her eyes glued to her plate. I glanced between Lori and Shane, knowing that there was a connection there, but not sure what. Had Lori caused the scratch marks? Not Ed? Why?

Daryl returned with a plate and two glasses of orange juice. "How'd you think it happened," he whispered as he passed me one of the glasses.

"What?"

"His face. Looks like somebody really kicked his ass," he snorted.

Miraculously, a short, genuine chuckle escaped me. I looked at the bruise on Shane's face again, and allowed myself to smile. For the first time in my life, I was proud to have bitten someone. And looking back on it, I had been so panicked that I had forgotten a small detail.

I had told Shane off last night.

I didn't have to wrestle him to the ground, I didn't have to yell. I simply told him to go away after getting him the hell off me, and he did. Sure, he was drunk out of his skull, and him not thinking straight was probably my saving grace. Otherwise, he probably would've kept on going. Simply telling him off would more than likely not work again in the future, but it did last night. And that was what mattered for right now, in that moment. We'll see what the future brings.

I was still smiling with renewed confidence, and I continued smiling even when I felt Shane's glare on me. I didn't bother sparing him a glance.

"Morning," Jenner announced as he walked in.

Some of the group said 'hey, doc' in unison.

"Doctor," Dale turned to face Jenner. "I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-"

"But you will anyway," Jenner said, monotone, as he got some coffee.

I smirked at him. "Never change, Jenner," I told him, gaining a tired grin from him for at least a second before it disappeared.

"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea said.

\-------

Jenner typed some things on a computer and said to Vi, "Gimme a playback of TS-19."

Vi repeated him, and the largest screen in the room lit up.

"Few people ever got a chance to see this," Jenner said, a hint of reverence and, for some reason, sadness in his voice. "Very few."

The screen showed a three-dimensional model of a human head.

"Is that a brain," Carl asked in fascination.

Jenner nodded at him with a small smile. "An extraordinary one." Then, he frowned and refocused. "Not that it matters in the end. Take us in for E.I.V."

" _Enhanced internal view_ ," Vi echoed.

The view shifted, giving us a side view of the brain. The entire room was silent as the image took its time zooming in. The veins and lines running through the brain were lit up and flashing brilliantly. I leaned on one of the desks in front of me, staring in fascination. Everything looked so…alive.

"What are those lights," Shane asked.

"It's a person's life," Jenner explained as if talking to a class. "Experiences, memories, it's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light…is you. The thing that makes you unique and human."

"You don't make sense ever," Daryl said. I chuckled lightly.

"Those are synapses, electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth, to the moment of death."

"Death," Rick said, "That's what this is? A vigil?"

"Yes," Jenner replied quietly. "Or…rather the playback of the vigil."

"Someone died," Andrea exhaled sympathetically. "Who?

"Test Subject 19. Someone who was bitten and infected. And volunteered to have us…record the process…Vi, scan forward to the first event."

The synapses that appeared next were mainly blackened with only some light illuminating around the edges. Jenner explained that it was similar to meningitis, and then shuts down the entire body, blackening the entire brain. Everyone of us fell deathly silent out of respect.

"Is that what happened to Jim," Sophia asked.

"Yes," Carol said.

Most of us were still silent. Only sniffling could be heard from a few of the group, including Andrea who looked away completely. Lori explained to Jenner as he looked on.

"I lost somebody, too," he said to Andrea. "I know how devastating it is."

I'd lost many people throughout the years, as well. However, the only thought in my head was Daryl. The one waiting for me in the future. The one trying to find me after I got myself left behind on a mission. The one who might never find my body due to it being devoured by corpses.

I squeezed my eyes shut to try and stop the tears, unable to imagine his sheer devastation at the realization that I wasn't coming back to him. I know I would be if the situation was reversed. I used to think that Daryl would be fine without me, and he would be. However, we both made it abundantly clear, over and over again, driving it into each other's skulls that we didn't _want_ to be without each other. _I'm sorry, Daryl_.

I reached my fingers across the desk and clasped his hand in my own. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

He looked at me curiously, but squeezed my hand anyway. "For what?"

I didn't say anything, just bumped my shoulder lightly with his, blinked back the moisture, and continued to look at the screen.

He had the computer scan to the next event.

"The resurrection times vary wildly," he explained. "We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute…seven seconds." With every word he spoke, his voice grew quieter and quieter. I understood why he picked this particular test subject. Whoever was on screen was important to him.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said quietly.

He looked back at me as if startled. And then he nodded once and turned back to the screen.

The brain was lighting up again. It was still mostly blackened, but dark red was relighting the synapses.

"It restarts the brain," Lori asked.

"No," Jenner said. "Just the brain stem. Basically, it gets them up and moving."

"But they're not alive," Rick said.

Jenner gestured to the screen. "You tell me."

Rick shook his head. "It's nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark. Lifeless. Dead," Jenner agreed. "The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part, that doesn't come back – The _you_ part. Just a shell, driven by mindless instinct."

I shrugged. A simplistic way to describe walkers if I ever heard one, aside from all the science talk.

Very suddenly, light blinded the screen. And when it faded, there was a thick line cutting through the test subject's skull. My jaw dropped at how it was presented on the screen. I'd never seen a gunshot in that kind of view. Wow…

"God," Carol said. "What was that?"

Andrea stared up at the screen. "He shot his patient in the head. Didn't you?"

Instead of answering her, he said, "Vi, power down the main screen and the workstations."

" _Powering down main screen and work stations_."

"You have no idea what is, do you," Andrea all but demanded.

Jenner glanced down, as if suddenly bothered by the group's attention. "It could be microbial," he said vaguely. "Viral, parasitic, fungal…"

"Or the wrath of God," Jacqui spat, tears streaming down her face.

"There is that," he mumbled.

When everyone started asking Jenner about the other facilities and locations, I shook my head and tuned them out. Untangling my hand from Daryl's, I started to slowly circle the room, mostly aimless pacing. Daryl didn't follow me, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching me with interest.

I was the last person in the world to ever say there was no hope. I was a stubborn mule and had only one direction, and that was forward. Despite not believing there was life after death – which has me laughing at myself now – I didn't believe for a second that life was aimless, without goals or meaning. There were always ways to carry on, ways and motivations to keep going. It was just different for every person, and some had more difficulty with it than others.

What I did not believe in, however, was false hope. And that's exactly what the CDC and anything related was. Whatever caused people to become walkers quite possibly had no cure. You could either cling to that and cry about it, or square with it and move forward. Sometimes life is the way it is. It was okay to feel sad or upset, but you let the universe win the moment you let hardships consume you. Was there a cure? I didn't know. But dwelling on a 'what if' would not do anyone any favors.

At some point during my pacing, I stopped to stare down at a PIN pad. It was lying on a table, and it looked out of place just sitting there with nothing else around it.

"So, it's not just here," I vaguely heard Andrea say at some point. "There's nothing left anywhere. Nothing. That's what you're really saying, right?"

Silence, the group absorbing what she was saying.

"Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk," I heard Daryl mutter. "Again."

I slowly took my attention away from the PIN pad to glance at everyone's devastated faces.

"Dr. Jenner," Dale said. "I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but…" He stepped closer to the red numbers that loomed over us. "That clock, it's counting down." As the numbers were hitting the one hour mark, Dale asked, "What happens at zero?"

Jenner gazed at the ceiling, at the walls, anything but the group's gaze. "The…basement generators. They run out of fuel."

"More so than they already have," I asked, making a couple people, including Rick, glance sharply at me. Jenner turned away.

"And then," Rick asked him, but Jenner ignored him to go disappear deeper into the facility. Rick stared after him for a full second before addressing the ceiling. "Vi! What happens when the power runs out?"

" _When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur_."

Rick looked around at everyone's confused and slightly fearful faces. Even if they didn't know what was to happen, they could all tell by Jenner's tone and body language that it wasn't good. Rick rubbed a hand over his face

Daryl made his way over to me and leaned in close. "What does it mean by 'decontamination'?" I shook my head grimly. He blinked, staring at me in shock. "You can't be serious?!"

I shrugged. "Let's hope you were right and we all get out of this alive."

"Son of a bitch," he snapped loudly, burying his face in his hands and pacing. Every now and again I caught a glimpse of his face, and I could see he was torn between both belief and disbelief at what might happen.

At his outburst, Rick stared at us, and then he focused on me and strode over. "How did you know about the generators," he asked me quickly.

"I told y'all last night at dinner," I said. "I was going exploring."

He spun around. "Glenn, T-Dog, Shane," he said to them. "We're gonna investigate this." He turned back to me. "Can you show us where the basement is?"

I nodded once.

"I'm comin', too," Daryl said, not leaving any room for argument.

"No need," Shane grumbled irately. "Rick's already got a _lot_ of us goin' down there."

"I don't take orders from you," he growled.

I put a hand on his chest to stop him from getting in Shane's face. "We'll be fine," I said to Daryl. He glanced at the timer, not convinced. "We still have an hour left."

He looked at me, grumbled under his breath, and stepped aside to let us through.

Before I led them out of the control room, Rick turned around and said, "Everyone else, go back to your rooms, cafeteria, or rec room. Buddy system, don't go anywhere alone. We're gonna figure out what's goin' on here."

When we reached the steps leading down to the basement, everyone behind me fired unanswerable questions at each other.

"Decontamination," Glenn said. "What does that mean?"

"I don't like the way Jenner clammed up," Shane said uneasily. "The way he just wandered off like that."

"What's wrong with him," T-Dog wondered aloud. "Seriously, man, is he nuts, medicated, what?"

I pointed down the hall at a door. "Right there," I said. "That's the basement entrance."

"I want you comin' with," Rick said. "I need you to show us the generators."

"Generator," I corrected. "There's only one left in operation." I resisted the urge to glance apprehensively at Shane. "Fine," I muttered, continuing to lead the way.

We opened the door and the lights automatically came to life. The only thing around us were the empty barrels.

I pointed in a vague direction. "Over that way is the last running generator," I said.

Rick nodded and pointed in a different direction. "Check that way," he told T-Dog and Glenn. "See what you can find. Be on the lookout for any fuel."

"There is no fuel," I said. "I checked every single one of these barrels."

"We still gotta look anyway," Rick said.

"You never know," Shane mumbled from somewhere behind me. "You mighta missed somethin'."

Not addressing him, continuing to look at Rick, I said, "Then, I'll go with T-Dog and Glenn. Help them look."

Rick pursed his lips, then nodded. "Shane," he beckoned for him to follow.

"You two look in every container we come across," I told T-Dog and Glenn as we went through our side of the basement. "I'll keep an eye out for anything I might've walked past when I was here last night."

"What's the point in us doing this," T-Dog scowled as he shined his flashlight into one of the barrels.

I shrugged. "I might've missed something," I said, resisting the urge to say it mockingly.

Glenn shook his head as he opened some supply cupboards. "It's doubtful. You notice everything."

"It's a blessing and a curse," I sighed as I went through the adjacent set of cupboards. "My mind never shuts up as a result."

"What do y'all think happens when the clock reaches zero," T-Dog asked, just as the lights went out.

" _Emergency lighting on_ ," Vi said.

"How close to zero do you think we are _right now_ ," Glenn whispered as they turned on their flashlights.

"Too close," I replied as we went to find Shane and Rick.

"Hey," Glenn called as we found them around the next corner. "You guys kill the lights?"

"Nah, it just went out," Shane said as he and Rick continued to inspect the last generator.

Rick looked at us. "Anything?"

"Yeah," T-Dog said. "A lot of dead generators and more empty fuel drums than I can count. Layla's right. Ain't nothing down here."

Shane looked away from the generator to stare at Rick. "It can't be down to just that one."

Rick stared at the fuel gauge of the generator for a long time. Then, he shook his head. "I want answers," he said he walked around us. We all followed him. "We _deserve_ answers. Let's go find Jenner."

"But where," T-Dog scoffed. "You seen how big this place is? It goes on forever."

When we exited the basement and started going up the stairs, Rick said, "Layla, you been all over this building. Where do you think we should start?"

"Don't know," I said truthfully. "Offices, restricted areas, connecting hallways, there're too many places he could frequent." Then, I hummed thoughtfully. "Let's start off in the control room. That seems to be the main hub. And then we'll go to the least important places first, like the rec rooms or any room without technology."

"Why least important," Rick asked.

"Jenner's going through something right now," I said. "Would you wanna go near your place of work if you were feeling emotional?"

T-Dog and Glenn glanced at me while smirking.

"Like Glenn said," T-Dog shook his head. "You don't miss anything."

As we exited the staircase and went through the hallways in the direction of the control room, we heard voices…Actually, one voice.

"Hey, man, I'm talkin' to you! What do you mean it's shuttin' itself down? How can a building to anythin'?"

Shane sighed in annoyance. "Or just keep it simple and follow the sounds of your impatient redneck boyfriend."

I rolled my eyes.

"You'd be surprised," Jenner said to Daryl as he came down a set of stairs to our level. He tried going right passed us, but Rick kept pace with him to try and hold his gaze.

"Jenner, what's happening," Rick asked.

Jenner's voice was monotone again. "The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second."

Daryl fell in step beside me as we followed Jenner to the control room. "Everythin's turnin' off," Daryl relayed to me. "Air conditioner, water spigots, electricity, you name it."

Jenner stopped talking to point to the clock. "Right on schedule," he said as we all stared at numbers that read thirty minutes left.

Jenner took a swig from the alcohol bottle in his fist. Every single group member was gathered behind him at this point. All was quiet. Jenner handed the bottle to Daryl.

"It was the French."

Andrea stepped forward to ask the question everybody had. "What?"

Jenner faced us. "They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs 'til the end. They thought they were close to a solution."

"What happened," Jacqui asked.

"They run out of fuel, too," I asked.

"The world runs on fossil fuel." Jenner shook his head in frustration. "I mean, how stupid is that?"

Frustrated as well, Shane sprinted forward as Jenner walked away again. "Let me tell you somethin'-"

"To hell with it Shane. I don't even care," Rick exclaimed as he grabbed his shoulder. He spun around and pointed at us. "Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We're gettin' outa here, now!"

Everyone started scrambling, about to take off to their rooms. I stayed still, observing Jenner's body language. Instead of walking away to an aimless part of the building this time, his stride held purpose, with a destination in mind. Daryl stood next to me, gaze flickering between my face and Jenner's back, trying to understand what I was observing.

I didn't react when the alarm started blaring, but everyone else sure did, and they were terrified. When Jenner got out of my sightline, I walked around the computers to try and discreetly follow him.

For only a few seconds more, Daryl kept pace beside me. "I'ma go get our stuff."

I nodded distractedly as he started leaving for our room. Jenner was over by the PIN pad I'd seen earlier. He had his ID card and was messing with the pad, but I couldn't see what he was typing in.

"Everybody, y'all heard Rick," Shane yelled. "Get your stuff and let's go! Go now!"

I jumped when a door slid shut over an entryway, the same entryway we first arrive through.

"Did you just lock us in," Glenn panicked.

_Thank you for stating the obvious. I really appreciate it_ , I thought while grinding my teeth together. I shook my head rapidly, tried not to focus on us being trapped, and directed my focus on the PIN pad all the way from where I was standing.

"He just locked us in!"

"Yes," I yelled. "Please! Say it louder, Glenn! God almighty," I grumbled into my hands.

When Jenner moved away to start making a voice recording in front of one of the computers, I growled stubbornly and jogged over to the PIN pad. Something he typed on there had to have had something to do with the door. All the while, everyone was losing their minds.

Daryl tried causing a scene.

Everyone was demanding the door be opened.

Jenner explained – I mean, shouted – the CDC's protective function.

He had Vi define H.I.T.

Daryl and Shane swung axes at the door.

Jenner was getting morbid.

I only vaguely heard all of it. I kept nearly all of my focus on the PIN pad and Jenner's ID card that sat next to it. I turned both things over in my hands and then set them down. Jenner's ID had barcodes and multiple strings of numbers written on it. I started typing in the numbers from the ID onto the PIN pad because I highly doubted Jenner was going to actually give me the code.

"Wouldn't it be kinder," Jenner coaxed everyone at some point. "More compassionate to just…hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?"

"That's a cult I don't wanna be a part of, doc," I mumbled to myself as I continued typing.

A gun cocking echoed around the room. I glanced behind me as Rick was yelling at Shane to back off.

"Open that door," Shane demanded of Jenner at gunpoint. When Rick continued to try and talk Shane down, he only succeeded in making Shane point the gun away. Not that it mattered, because Shane gave an obnoxious battle cry and started shooting at computer monitors.

I rolled my eyes and got back to work. I cursed as it once again rejected the numbers. Daryl appeared beside me, shaking his head and baring his teeth in sheer frustration. After tossing one of the axes to the floor, he placed his elbows on the desk, put his hands over his face, and yelled into his palms.

He lifted his head from his hands as I continued to mess with the numbers. "What're you doin'," he asked.

"Trying to find a code off of this hunk of plastic," I said, tapping the ID card. "Jenner punched some numbers into this PIN pad and then seconds later the door came down. I highly doubt it was a coincidence." I glanced at Jenner for a second. He was now talking about his wife being Test Subject 19. "Hmm, I wonder if the code has the number nineteen in it."

Daryl shook his head. "Don't look at me. I got no clue."

"Yeah, well, neither do I. I'm flying by the seat of my pants with this."

"What are you two doing," I heard Jenner suddenly asked.

"Fucking shit up," I replied instantly. "Care to help?

At everyone's silence, I looked behind me to stare in Jenner's eyes. Jenner sighed as he looked away from me to stare at Rick.

"Your wife didn't have a choice," Rick said to him. "You do. That's-That's all we want…A choice. A chance."

"Let us keep trying as long as we can," Lori begged.

Jenner took one more glance around. "I told you, topside's locked down. I can't open those." He looked at me. "Swipe the card first. Then, 8719."

I did as he said. As soon as I hit the last digit, the door opened.

And suddenly, it was like everyone woke up. They shouted at each to get their stuff, to get a move on. When I went up the ramp to the door, Daryl slung his crossbow on and tossed me the rest of my weapons and my backpack. I put it on, staying off to the side and making sure everyone made it past me before going myself.

"Come on, people," I said. "Let's move it!"

"Come on," Daryl said to me.

"Not 'til everyone's ahead of me," I said calmly. He scoffed loudly. "Go on ahead," I told him. "See if there's a way out. Everyone's moving quickly, I won't be far behind."

"Nu-uh," he said fiercely, getting close so only I could hear him. "'Cause you said two people don't make it. I'll be damned if you turn that into three just 'cause your tryin' to play hero."

I shrugged. "I guess you're waiting here with me, then, 'cause I'm not moving until I got everyone accounted for." In response, he threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Let's go, let's go," T-Dog said to Jacqui.

"No, I'm stayin'," Jacqui pushed him away. "I'm stayin', sweetie."

"But that's insane," T-Dog yelled.

"No, it's completely sane," she said through gritted teeth. "For the first time in a long time. I'm not endin' up like Jim and Amy. There's no time to argue, not if you wanna get out. Just get out. Get out!" She gave T-Dog one final shove, but it was Shane who had to drag him away.

"Come on, let's go, let's go," Shane yelled as he tried pushing everyone out the door. All except for Daryl and I, which he completely ignored. I shrugged. He was ignoring me; I'd say that was a step in the right direction.

Dale was at a loss, mouth opening and closing as he approached Jacqui and Andrea, who was also opting to stay.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered as I looked around at Jacqui, Andrea, Dale, and Jenner.

Dale looked away from them to stare at us. "Just go! Go!" As soon as Dale said that, Shane once again coaxed everyone away, and this time he was successful. Dale's eyes landed on Daryl and I. "Go!"

I shook my head. "Not without you guys-"

"Trust me. I've got it handled, Layla," he said, looking me square in the eyes, unwavering.

I glanced once more at everyone sadly. I sighed and nodded. As soon as I did so, Daryl grasped my hand and we took off after the others. Dale wasn't cut out for this world, but he made convincing arguments. If anyone could encourage those three to keep on going, it'd be Dale. And I trusted him to try. He was a stubborn son of a bitch, and I'd be very surprised if he failed.

We ran up the stairs and into the lobby, where everyone was shoving at the doors and struggling to break the windows.

"Layla, what was that code again," T-Dog shouted from where he stood in front of another PIN pad.

"Uh, 8719," I said as I joined him.

The screen on the pad was unlit and blank. T-Dog tried punching in the code over and over again anyway while yelling at Glenn to keep trying the doors.

Going over to the bag of guns, I dragged out one of the rifles, aimed at the glass, and took a few shots that weren't successful in the slightest. I shoved the gun back into the bag. Daryl and Shane tossed each other axes and swung uselessly at the windows. T-Dog tried throwing a chair at it. Shane even tried shooting at it as well. Nothing we did made a scratch.

"The glass won't break," Sophia asked fearfully.

"Rick," Carol said as she dug through her bag. "I have something that might help."

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna do it," Shane ridiculed.

Fuck off, Shane.

Shane whipped his gaze to me with a harsh glare.

I sneered at him. "Whoops, no filter."

"Your first morning at camp," Carol was saying to Rick. "When I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket." I would've never guessed that she'd take out a grenade. Damn, that was impressive.

Ed, who'd been standing back and away from everyone, started stomping his way over. "You had that this whole time," he growled. "And what? You didn't think to tell me?"

I stepped in Ed's path, glaring at him and staring him in the eye. He bared his teeth at me and glared right back before backing away.

Then, someone yelled 'Look out!' and we all drew further back. Some huddled against the wall or dropped down against the stairs. Daryl and I were lying on the floor cupping our hands over the backs of our necks. It was so quiet that we could all hear Rick readying the grenade. He pulled the pin.

"Oh, shi-" Rick was beginning to yell as he made a run for cover.

As soon as the blast went off and shattered the glass, Daryl's arm flew out to wrap around my upper back, and I moved one of my hands to grasp one of his.

The moment the ground stopped shaking everyone was up and grabbing their stuff. We jumped through the destroyed window and onto the front lawn like bats out of hell. It didn't end there, though, because the friendly neighborhood walkers had come to say 'good afternoon' to us.

Rick and Shane fired off rounds. Daryl bashed them over the head with his crossbow and axe. I kept to the outside, circling the group and stabbing walkers as they came too close. When I saw that there were no more walkers coming from the sides and that the men had the front covered, I ran ahead of everyone.

Walkers were gathered around the vehicles, crowding near some of the doors. After a couple stabs and shooting some arrows, the last walker dropped. As I killed that last one, the group had reached the vehicles, jumping in to each one and slamming the doors behind them. I stared at the CDC.

"Come on," Daryl grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the truck.

"The rest of 'em, though," I said without looking at him. "They gotta make it out-"

"They ain't gonna! Let's get outa here!"

"No, look!" I pointed at the broken window, where Dale and Andrea were climbing out of. It was only a half victory. No Jacqui and no Jenner.

I looked at Daryl sadly, and he only shook his head slowly.

Dale and Andrea were running. They almost made it the RV when suddenly people were shouting to get down. Fire was filling the inside of the CDC.

This time, I let Daryl tug me again. We both pressed ourselves against the side of the truck, holding on to each other for dear life as the explosion almost shattered our eardrums and tried to tear apart the air. The ground shook violently, and the blast was strong enough to heat up the metal of the truck. But the fire didn't reach us, just a couple dozen feet out of reach.

Daryl's arms were wrapped tightly around my shoulders and back, chin resting on the top of my head. My face was pressed against his chest and I had one of my arms draped over the back of his neck. When the heat subsided, we both took a breath and gradually relaxed, but still clung to each other.

I heard everyone starting their vehicles, one by one.

"We need to get in the truck," I exhaled, but neither of us made a move.

I felt him nod. "Layla," he murmured against my hair.

"Yeah?"

He inhaled and exhaled, his grip around me tightening by a fraction. Then, he loosened up and pulled back to look at my face. Despite us nearly getting blown up, his face was calm and neutral, with his eyes steady and not looking away from mine. "I believe you."


	17. Parts

Everyone had Fort Benning on the brain, which I didn't disagree with. Even though I didn't think anyone was there, it should be a stronghold similar to the prison. Armory, generators, food rations, possibly running water, etcetera. So long as Fort Benning had most of those things, it didn't sound like a bad idea. It was getting there that was the issue. Almost all of the vehicles were running out of fuel, and we hadn't even left the city limits.

We decided to stop in a small neighborhood. We were still in Atlanta, but away from the more heavily populated areas.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl hissed as he tried to restart the truck. This was where we wanted to stop, but the truck decided it was going to stop here permanently. It stalled just as Daryl hit the brakes. "Come on," he muttered, but it didn't even want to turn over. He let his head fall back in exasperation.

"Come on," I said. I gestured to the abandoned cars around us. "There's bound to be some fuel left around here."

"If there ain't," he said as we got out. "We still got the bike. I'ma go see how it's doin' on fuel."

When I got out of the truck and closed the door, I leaned against it with a tired sigh. I had slept a total of about five hours within a three-day time span, now going on day four. I had slept those five hours when Daryl and I had camped out near Woodbury. Then, the CDC happened and I hadn't slept there for obvious reasons. Once out of the CDC, we all left in our vehicles, and I certainly wasn't going to get any sleep then. And I was not able to convince Daryl to let me sleep in the truck bed while we travelled.

"One hard bump," he had said. "And you'll be tossed out and covered in road rash."

"I've gotten road rash before," I had shrugged. "Not like you'll hear me bitch about it if it happens."

"You're right," he agreed with a nod. "You won't bitch about it. You'll get back up and act like it never even happened, and then I won't know if you're injured or not."

"You know me so well."

And now the truck didn't even want to go at all, but the little neighborhood we were in had plenty of abandoned cars. I pushed off the door to go join the others while Daryl stayed in the truck bed inspecting Merle's motorcycle. Everyone else had exited their vehicles and were now strategizing by the RV.

"We got any extra fuel cans," Rick asked around.

"I should have some," Dale said as he disappeared into the RV.

"Jeep's got some attached," Shane said.

Rick nodded. "That's what we're gonna do while it's still daylight. T-Dog, Glenn, Shane, grab a fuel can and start siphoning from any vehicle you come across. If you don't know how to siphon, ask someone to teach you."

"Are the rest of us gonna sit here and twiddle our thumbs," Andrea scoffed with a frown. She stood up while patting the gun she had holstered on her hip. "I'll stand on top of the RV, keep watch."

"Anybody ever teach you how to use that," Shane asked dubiously.

Andrea glared at him. "I know how to shoot a gun."

T-Dog shook his head and glanced at me. "Layla should be the one on top of the RV," he said as Andrea scoffed again. "She's got a bow. We're still too close to the city to be firing off rounds."

"We'll need Layla for night watch," Rick shook his head. "Dale," he asked as Dale exited the RV with some fuel cans.

Dale nodded as Shane handed him a rifle. He turned around to climb up the ladder.

"What do you mean 'night watch'," Ed grumbled. "We'll be in our vehicles once y'all get fuel in 'em. Drive through the night."

Rick shook his head again. "It might not work out that way. Depending on how much fuel we find, extra supplies we find, and how tired we are-"

"And any RV parts," Dale added from on top of the RV. He tapped the roof with his toe. "I can list off the top of my head what this ol' girl will need before she breaks down. And she will break down."

"And bike parts," Daryl said as he came up beside me. "Truck's dead. The bike's got fuel, but needs some extra maintenance." He looked at me. "Merle thought it'd be fun to use it to weave through a crowd of walkers about a month ago. Some of those walkers ended up as speed bumps," he added with an eye roll.

I smirked and shook my head. "Dumbass," I muttered. I glanced around. "Daryl and I'll look around for an auto garage or parts store. Dale, make me a list."

Dale nodded once and got out a notepad to start jotting down.

"What do you want the rest of us do," Lori asked Rick.

Rick flexed his jaw, unsure. Shane, T-Dog, and Glenn went to find gas, Dale was taking watch, and Daryl and I were about to go find parts. That left Lori, Andrea, Carol, Sophia, Carl, and Ed.

"Um," Rick tried. I observed Rick and his interaction with them closely. Keeping things calmly organized was one of the areas where Rick struggled as leader. He often preferred his people to be self-motivated so he wouldn't feel burdened. The less motivated or independent someone was, the more stressed out he got over trying to keep them safe. Although he would never admit that, especially given that he also had hypocritical control-freak tendencies.

Carol spoke up. "Lori, what was the most recent thing we were teaching the kids? Was it fractions or multiplications?"

"Uh," Lori thought aloud. "Multiplications, I think?"

Carol shrugged. "We could find a place to sit and have another lesson." She glanced at a large tree near a church. "That shade looks cozy."

Carl and Sophia both grimaced. "It's the end of the world," Carl grumbled. "Why do we gotta do schoolwork?"

"Do as they say, you two," Rick grinned at them. Then, he nodded at Lori, Carol, and Andrea. "Sounds like a plan. I'm gonna go look through abandoned vehicles for supplies. Ed, I could use-"

Ed glared and scoffed and turned away, walking in a random direction down the street as he got out a pack of smokes. Rick blew out a puff of air.

"I can keep an eye on him," Andrea offered. "I…don't know much about teaching kids anyway."

I slowly shook my head with a frown. I believed Andrea could be scrappy if she wanted to, but I didn't think she could take on Ed if it came down to it. I could tell by the way she had her hands on her hips and fingers flitting over her holster that she believed she could get the upper hand by relying on her gun.

I didn't know Ed's history, but I could imagine he'd been in many bar fights. I highly doubted a weapon would deter him. Not that Andrea was planning on shooting him, she was just prepared to come across as intimidating. What bothered me the most, though, was that she kept her hand on her gun as if it were a necessity. To me, she didn't come across as intimidating. She came across as trigger-happy.

Dale's list entered my vision, floating down in front of my like a leaf. I snatched it from the air and looked it over. "Let's see what we can find," I told Daryl. He nodded, adjusted his crossbow higher on his shoulder, and we began to walk away. Bike parts would be simple once we found some sort of auto place, but Dale's RV was an old model. His parts would be harder to find.

"Hold up a sec," Rick said to us before we got out of sight. He turned back to Andrea with his hand held out. "Lemme see your gun."

Andrea's eyes narrowed tensely. "Why?"

"When was the last time you cleaned it," he asked calmly.

She held a staring contest with Rick. With a sigh, she continued to glare at him while handing over her gun. I watched closely. My belief that she was trigger-happy only grew when her fingers brushed against the trigger as she passed it. Rick winced ever so slightly, having seen that as well. Andrea had no idea, because she looked at me harshly and demanded, "What?"

Oh, the sarcastic comments I had lined up in my head. _You'll shoot your eye out, kid._ Or. _You traded gun safety for blonde hair dye, huh?_ Or. _Annie Oakley is rolling in her grave as we speak._

Instead I shook my head and shrugged, putting my attention on Rick to see what he would do. He carefully turned the gun over in his hand. "Did you inherit this from someone," he asked.

Andrea nodded. "My father," she said fondly.

Rick nodded back. He checked the chamber, and then released and removed the magazine. He put the magazine in his pocket and gave the gun back to Andrea.

She looked at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me," she snapped. "It's useless now."

I couldn't help it. "We can still use 'em as clubs!" I hollered with a grin, making Daryl, Rick, and Andrea stare confusedly at me. I snickered and made a 'never mind' hand wave.

Rick shook his head, and looked at Andrea again. "I've taken the bullets out," he told her. "Shane's right. I don't know you well enough to know if you were ever taught to respect a gun."

"So why not just take the whole damn thing," she asked scathingly.

"Because this was your father's," he said. "I have no right to take all of it, but I took the bullets, for everyone's sake. In the meantime," he paused to take out a hunting knife. "You can use this as a weapon. After you're done helping Daryl find parts, I'll give the bullets back to you."

"She ain't helpin' us," Daryl snapped.

"I'm gonna have Layla keep an eye on Ed," Rick explained. "Since Andrea's helped Dale with the RV before, she'll have a vague idea of what parts he needs. You'll help each other bring the bike and RV parts back."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Does she even know how to use a goddamn knife?"

With a frustrated huff, Andrea snatched the knife and empty gun from Rick's hands and walked over to us. "Gimme the list," she said, snappily holding her hand out. I sighed and gave it to her. She looked it over and nodded thoughtfully. "We'll see what we can find, Dale! If there isn't a store, I know which vehicles to look through."

Dale nodded his thanks. "If Glenn gets back before you do, I'll have him help you guys out."

"We'll be fine," Andrea said tetchily. "I know just as much as Glenn…and Jim does…did." She shook her head rapidly, to maintain seriousness. She looked at Daryl. "You got an idea of where we need to go?"

Daryl simply gave her a glare and a short nod. His frown relaxed some when he looked at me. "We're gonna try down that street first," he pointed out. "Meet you back over at the truck." He paused, jaw tensing. "If Ed tries somethin' with you…You give him hell."

I smirked. "Don't I always?"

"I mean it," he growled, crossing his arms and staring in the direction Ed disappeared to. "He does somethin', anythin'…" He snorted. "Not like anyone'd miss him anyway."

"No one is killin' anyone," Rick breathed in exasperation.

Daryl rolled his eyes and glared at Rick. With a curt, beckoning nod at Andrea, he and her left.

"Layla," Rick muttered. He waved for me to follow him.

I raised a brow at him, but followed. He led me to a nearby yard. He opened the door to an old tractor shed and nodded for me to get inside. I scanned his body language. I was still involuntarily suspicious, but I perceived no threat from him and cautiously stalked inside.

"Just don't lock it behind you," I told him firmly as he shut the door.

He nodded. When the door closed, we were almost surrounded in darkness, not counting the thin rays of light that filtered through the gaps and cracks in the walls and ceiling. He leaned against a tractor and sighed, staring at nothing. I stayed standing, keeping my eyes on his and wondering what this was about.

"We're all infected," he muttered after a while. "Jenner told me in private."

I snorted. "You're lucky 'I told you so' isn't my style."

Rick shook his head rapidly. "I still should've listened to you." He then looked at me, giving me his full attention. He was frowning deeply, eyes crinkling around the edges as if afraid for some reason. "But how did you know?"

I shrugged. "I've seen it happen many times. Someone dies of something non-walker related, and if the injury or whatever wasn't head-related, they'll wake up as walker."

"When we arrived at the CDC, on our way to the building, you and Daryl were looking over the bodies we passed. You were looking for head wounds."

I nodded. "Head wounds are the only surefire way someone stays dead nowadays."

"What about burning the bodies," Rick asked. "It's what we did to some of the bodies after the attack at the quarry. I would think it's the surest way to…decontaminate." He cringed at that word. "Does that make sense?"

I nodded again. "But does it matter since we're all infected anyway?" That made him pause thoughtfully. "There's no harm in burning bodies. In fact, sometimes the stench of burnt walkers can keep other walkers away. However, fire won't kill walkers, not unless the fire reaches the brain. Honestly, though, burning bodies isn't really practical. It's almost always a waste of energy depending on the circumstance."

"Okay," he nodded firmly, and I could tell he was making mental notes. "How do you know so much about walkers?"

"I've learned how to read them. They're just-"

"Just like any other animal," he finished, as if reminding himself it was obvious. "Right. Right."

He removed his hat, placed it on his knee, and sighed as he resumed staring at nothing.

I glanced at the door, then back at him. "Rick, do you actually need me for anything? 'Cause I gotta go track down Ed. The highlight of my day."

He nodded. "I need you to not tell the others."

I blinked. "If we ever have to walk over walker bodies like we did at the front of the CDC, wouldn't you want the group to know to look for head wounds?"

"I'm not disagreeing," he reasoned. "But…" He trailed off and gestured at the shed door. "You've seen 'em. They're all afraid. Of everythin'. We tell 'em we're all infected, it's gonna cause chaos."

"Sometimes you need a little chaos just to blow off steam."

"Layla-"

"I won't tell anyone," I assured stoically. "You, me, and Daryl are the only ones who know about this, right? We'll keep it that way, if that's what you want." I crossed my arms and looked him directly in the eyes. "But here's the thing," I explained. At my tone, his eyes narrowed by a fraction. "You are not my leader. Not you, not Daryl, not Shane, not Andrea, no one. I follow my own sets of rules. If I think, for one second, that telling someone we're all infected will save someone's life…Well, guess what I'm gonna do."

Rick's eyes narrowed further, but I continued. "I'm not trying to overthrow you or some bullshit like that. You can keep the title of 'Group Babysitter'. What I'm saying is that you are asking me to keep crucial survival information from people who can't even look at a weapon with cringing in fear, much less look at a walker. If I think it's necessary to tell people, then I'm gonna tell people. Are you good with where we stand on this?" I stuck my hand out.

He hesitated for a second, eyes still narrowed, but he shook it. "Now," I sighed irately as I exited the shed. "I gotta go babysit a landmine."

I sprinted down the street to catch up to Ed. He was leaning against an overturned school bus. He had a cigarette in his mouth and was rapidly flicking a lighter in frustration. With an angry huff, he tossed it away.

"'Sup, Ed," I called with a cheery smile.

He threw me a harsh grimace and then kept his gaze away from me. "The hell do you want," he grumbled as he pocketed the cigarette.

I went passed him to open up the passenger door of a small Honda. "I've been told to keep an eye on you," I said as I looked through the glove compartment, and under and in between the seats. "I got the easy job, 'cause you do nothing."

"Lucky you," I heard him mumble.

"Mhm," I hummed. "Hey, since your date with your cigarette stood you up, why not check in some of the nearby cars. You got nothing else to do with your time."

I moved around the car to the trunk. I stared at Ed as I opened it. He still stood there, staring off into space. I sighed in annoyance, and kept looking. After searching through two more cars, I found a quart of oil, a first aid kit, a matchbook, and sidewalk chalk. I put it all in my backpack.

At first, Ed would try to discreetly move away from me, but I always kept him in my peripheral. Wherever who moved, I moved as well. He was as discreet as a tiptoeing elephant with tap shoes, so it wasn't that much of a challenge. At some point, he grumbled that I was a cunt, leaned himself against a retention wall, and finally stopped trying to ditch me.

Then, I had an idea. And I had to work hard to hide my smirk.

"You know," I drawled. "Instead of wasting your energy trying to get away from me, why don't you search those cars over there." I pointed randomly at a trio of SUVs. "Daryl was bitching about running out of smokes. I don't care for cigarettes, but I think I saw some through one of the windshields." I didn't even have to finish that sentence, for Ed was already striding in that direction.

I snickered through my nose, low enough so he didn't hear. "I can't remember if they were in the front seat or back," I hollered. "You may need to be thorough."

After looking through some more vehicles, and occasionally stopping to watch Ed angrily pick through the SUVs, I decided to haul myself up into the bed of a dump truck. I was picking up an axe when I heard Ed breeze past. I didn't bother hiding my smirk as I jumped down onto the pavement. "Did you find what you were looking for," I asked.

"Fuck you," he stopped to spat at me.

"Oh, come on," I rolled my eyes. "At least you were doing something useful." I took the axe out from behind my back. "Here's your consolation prize for trying."

He glared at the axe, and then muttered a string of sharp insults as he walked away. When he stopped muttering, I tilted my head. I could hear a jingling that wasn't there before. As quietly as I could, I snuck up behind him, shoved my hand into one of his pockets, and pulled it out.

"What the fuck," he screamed and turned around.

I ignored him to stare at the bullets cupped in my palm. "So you did find something? I take it you weren't gonna share," I said. When I looked up at him, his eyes were murderous. "Did you find anything else? I'll trade you all of it for this," I said, jostling the axe a little. "You can use this instead of that wimpy crowbar. And whatever you give me, I'll give to the group and tell 'em that you found all of it. Which is true."

"So why take it from me, then?"

"Because if I let you keep whatever you've found," I explained calmly. "Then you'll never share it with the group. Much less with your own family," I snorted.

He took a step forward, threatening my personal space. I made a show of flexing my fingers around the axe as I crossed my arms. He stared daggers at me and I stared back. When he shifted to take another step, I straightened my spine and uncrossed my arms in a challenging manner. He stopped moving and looked me up and down, waiting for a break in my resolve. When it never came, he gave me one final glare, spun around, and went to find his family's vehicle.

I gave a long sigh and slowly followed after him. Not to antagonize further, but just because we were both heading in the same direction. Daryl should be back at his truck by now, and he was. He had taken the motorcycle out of the bed and on to the pavement, working to replace some parts.

"You good," he asked me as he glared at Ed.

I nodded as I walked passed him to go talk to Rick. He and Shane were next to the RV, filling it with fuel and chatting. "Hey," I nodded at Rick. I handed him the bullets and axe.

"Thanks," Rick said.

"Ed found those bullets."

Rick's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You actually got him to do something?"

"Bet that pissed him off," Shane said, not bothering to look at me as he poured the fuel. "You best sleep with one eye open from now on."

I ignored him, shrugging at Rick. "It was easy once I found the right motivation."

Rick blew out a puff of air in amazement. "Teach us your ways. Please."

I chuckled. "And have him be pissed off at more people? Nah, let him concentrate his hatred on me if he wants, given that I can handle it." I paused. "There's a bit of problem. I almost had to wrestle these bullets off of him. I don't know if he found anything else, but if he did he's not gonna share anything."

Rick nodded thoughtfully. "Then we won't have him doing any runs or searches from now on."

Shane set the fuel can down. "I'll see if I can't persuade him to give up the rest of his treasure." He left us to stride over to Ed.

I took a shaky breath. I knew I was never going to be okay with Shane's presence ever again. I also knew that I wanted to tell Daryl about him, not only for my own sanity, but in case Shane tried anything with anyone else. Both Daryl and I could keep an eye on him. However, I knew how Daryl was going to take it. I glanced between Rick and Shane. Unless it was self defense, doing anything to Shane would be out of the question. I had to figure out how I was going to convince Daryl not to do anything to him.

I shook my head rapidly. One thing at a time.

"So what'll we have Ed do," I asked Rick. "We can't trust him to share, we can't trust him to keep us safe, we can't even trust him to be on his own. So…what?"

Rick scrubbed a hand down his face as we watched Shane trying to reason with Ed. Reasoning turned into provoking, though, as both men raised their voices.

"Shane. Shane!" Rick shouted. "Just let it go, man!"

Shane glanced rapidly between Ed and Rick. Ed stood before Shane, standing as tall as he could with his fists clenched at his sides. Ed's face held both anger and fear, but I could tell he wasn't planning on backing down. Shane finally spat out a curse and stomped away, leaving Ed to square his shoulders in an almost triumphant manner.

"And now," I muttered. "We're letting Ed get away with keeping stuff from us, 'cause I highly doubt Shane got anything else off of him…If he does have anything, that is. So, back to my question…?"

Rick nodded once. "I'm gonna let this go…Just for today. But I'll figure somethin' out with him." At my dubious face, he said more firmly, "I will. You have my word."

"Uh-huh," I muttered in a way that told him I wasn't in the least bit convinced. 

I opened my backpack and handed him the oil, first aid kit, and the matchbook. When I brought out the sidewalk chalk, I took out two pieces and gave the rest of the box to Rick. "Those are for the kids," I said. I turned my attention upward to Glenn, who was now on top of the RV keeping watch. "Hey," I hollered. He looked down at me. I tossed him the two pieces of chalk. "Those'll show up better than sharpie."

Glen raised a brow at me as he looked at the chalk now in his hand. "What?"

"In case you ever need to draw us a plan again," I said.

His confusion turned into a shy smile and he said, "Thank you."

I went over to Daryl. He was sitting next to the bike, working on the front wheel. I sat down across from him. "Anything I can help with," I asked.

He snagged a rag from his pocket to wipe his hands off. After doing a final inspection of the front wheel, he picked up a brand-new chain and handed it to me. "Need to replace the old one," he said as he shuffled to the other end of the bike. "We don't got a bike lift, so I'll have to lift and steady as you go."

"You got a replacement sprocket, too," I asked as I started removing the old chain.

"Naw," he said as he started to lift the rear of the bike. "The chain took a lot of the damage. Hopefully the sprocket's just fine."

I nodded. "Seems to be," I said. "But we'll see once I have it fully removed. If your arms start to get tired, let me know and we'll switch. Although, I don't think I'd be able to hold it up for very long."

"That's why I'm holdin' it while you put on the chain."

I frowned slightly. "If…you want, we can put this on pause. I can go find a bike lift to make this easier for you. If you're not comfortable with me working on Merle's bike-"

"Couldn't find one while me and Andrea were lookin'," he interrupted calmly. "And you know how bikes work. And even if I did find a lift, I still wouldn't have problem with you helpin'."

I gave a small smile as I slid the old chain out of the way. "Thank you for trusting me."

I heard him snort lightly. "It's a no brainer," he muttered, making my face heat up.

After I set the tension for the new chain, I nodded at Daryl. He slowly set the rear wheel down, and made sure the bike remained steady on the kickstand. I stood up and stepped backwards to give Daryl room. As Daryl stood up and stretched his arms out in front of him to work out any kinks, a voice came up behind me.

"You guys need any help," Andrea asked.

I glanced at her, and then looked at Daryl as he inspected the chain. "It's your bike, Daryl," I said.

"Naw, we got it," he shook his head, not sparing Andrea a glance. "You gonna be offended if I tweak the tension," he asked me without looking up from the chain.

"Nope. You know the bike better than I do."

Still not looking up Andrea, he said, "We don't got nothin' for you to do. Go whine to Rick if you want a job."

I looked at Andrea as annoyance set on her face. "Did you find RV parts?"

"Some," she sighed. "But not the new radiator hose he desperately needs."

"There's a dump truck about a block away from here," I said. "I'm no expert on radiator hoses, but-"

"A dump truck and an RV are not the same thing," she said snippily. She turned on her heel. "I'll go have a look, but I doubt it'll be what he's looking for." On that note, she sauntered away.

I chuckled humorlessly under my breath. "To this day, I still don't know how I piss people off unintentionally. How have I not scared _you_ away yet," I asked with a smirk

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "Try livin' with Merle. Your attitude ain't nothin' compared to his. 'Sides, it ain't just you."

"Yeah," I nodded. "She's getting pissy with everyone." I sat down beside Daryl again, and was unable to help the yawn that escaped. "It's gonna be fun to deal with."

After he readjusted the tension, we set to work doing some routine maintenance. Well, mostly Daryl, as most of the maintenance tasks were a one person job. I eventually opted for passing him tools and simply lending a hand when needed. We spoke without words, using head nods, arm and hand gestures, or eye movements. Speaking of eyes, mine were growing heavier and heavier by the minute. Daryl seemed to sense this because he stopped asking me for tools after a while. I opened my mouth to ask him what else he needed, but another yawn slipped passed.

When I blinked open my eyes, the world was sideways. I scrunched my eyebrows, trying to make sense as to why the pavement was now vertical. And then I realized it wasn't, I was just horizontal. I was lying on my side, my temple cushioned against something flat and smooth. When the scent of leather hit me, I grinned widely.

I pushed myself to sit up. I gently took the leather in my hands, taking my time unfolding it until the angel wings appeared. I held up the vest against the evening sun, my eyes tracing over every crease and stitch.

"You should try gettin' more sleep," Daryl said. He was sitting right beside me, both of us still next to the bike. "Rick said we're gonna stay the night. Sleep in our vehicles. He wants you on watch when night falls."

I nodded vaguely. I brushed dirt off the vest and handed it to him. "Leathers are like paint jobs," I said with a smirk. "You don't want 'em getting dirty or scuffed."

He shrugged. "No pillows nearby. 'Sides, it ain't mine. Found it in one of the saddlebags. Never even seen Merle wear it." He scowled at it. "Who the hell would put angel wings on it?"

I chuckled. "Well, Merle does think pretty highly of himself."

He chuckled as well. "It's his sense of humor, all right." He paused to thumb the fringe for a second before handing it to me again. "Never seen Merle wear it," he repeated. "He probably just stole it from someone at a bar outa spite and never got rid of it. You take it."

I raised a brow at him and pushed it his way. "And do what with it? It's too big for me." I smiled warmly. "You wear it."

He looked pointedly at the angel wings with another scowl. "Don't exactly suit me."

"That's your opinion," I remarked with a shrug. "And if we're gonna be riding this bike, you may as well look the part. Unless you got other leathers on standby?"

With the scowl not leaving his face, he opened up the vest. Sticking his fists through both the holes, he shrugged it on.

The smile never left my face. I bumped my shoulder with his. "That's a perfect fit if I ever saw one."

"If you say so," he muttered, flexing his shoulders a little as we looked out at the setting sun.

My eyes drifted shut again. Right before I went back to sleep, I felt an arm slowly loop around my upper back, and then the arm coaxed me to lean until I was resting against his shoulder. A light breeze rolled through and I contently inhaled, because with that breeze came the lovely, unmistakable scent of the leather vest. Of Daryl.


	18. The Highway

Due to the need to siphon fuel, our caravan was down to three vehicles; one car, the RV, and the motorcycle.

The air whipped at us as we rode, and I could feel the subtle push and pull of the bike as gears shifted intermittently. Most of the road was made up of straightaways, and I delighted at the occasional curve we had to lean into. The wind sometimes blew the scent of road kill into my nostrils, but I didn't care at all. It had been too long since I was on a bike. And while I'd rather be at the handlebars, the smile on my face felt permanent.

When I was a passenger on a motorcycle, I tended to get blissed out. I let my grip around his waist relax, to the point where I was just barely holding on. Then, I felt him using one of his hands to readjust my arms to be tighter.

"I've got good balance," I hollered over the engine. "Don't worry!"

Daryl scowled lightly. "Don't wanna have to scrape you off the pavement! You ain't got no seatback!"

I rolled my eyes. "Anybody ever tell you you worry too much?"

"Anybody ever tell you you're too damn brave for your own good?"

"I might've been told similar at some point," I chuckled. "And anyway, you're hardly going that fast!"

He simply shook his head in response. Indulging him, I tightened my arms. With a happy sigh, I rested my chin on his shoulder. He glanced at me, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. Suddenly, he twisted the throttle and went into a higher gear.

"I feel you loosen your grip at all," he hollered at me. "and I'm slowin' us back down!"

I tipped my head back and laughed as we sped up. I glanced briefly behind us at the other vehicles. Smirking, I freed up one of my hands to take out a walkie talkie.

"Y'all wanna race," I said into the microphone.

The response I received was from Dale. "What?!"

I laughed as I put the walkie talkie away and put my arm back around Daryl. I couldn't tell whether Dale's response was that of incredulous, or because he might not have been able to hear me over the bike. Either way, Daryl had sped the bike up exponentially. For many minutes, the world around us was a thrilling blur of trees, farms, and wheat fields. On the straightaways, Daryl made a show of tilting the bike this way and that, making it do steady weaving motions.

Daryl occasionally glanced back at me. At first, it was with worry, probably thinking I'd get nervous with how fast we were going and with how he manipulated the bike. However, his worry quickly faded when I laughed again at how much fun I was having. Now, when he glanced at me, it was with a smirk, one that told me he was having fun as well.

Our two-lane road eventually turned into a four-lane highway. Instead of fields and crops, we were now looking at scattered abandoned vehicles. Daryl lowered the gears to slow us so we could safely maneuver around. When we arrived at an overturned semi, Daryl swerved right to go around it.

"I don't think the group is gonna be able to make it through all this," I said to him.

He shrugged. "We'll find gaps."

I frowned. "Those gaps'll get smaller and smaller."

"So we'll use the median or the shoulder," he said as he made a U-turn.

"And we'll move vehicles if we have to," I nodded, but was still unsure. I didn't know why I was having a feeling of uncertainty.

The group had finally caught up to us, and they were all paused in front of the semi. Daryl stopped the bike next to the RV.

"See a way through," Dale asked us through the open driver's side window.

Daryl looked over his shoulder once, and then nodded at Dale. Going forward again, we looped around to the back of the RV, nodded at the others in the car to keep going, and made our way back to the front of the RV to lead.

The further we lead the group through the highway, the more dread I was feeling. Daryl had once mentioned something about a highway. I just couldn't remember what. Damn, was it grating at me.

_Bang! Hissss!_

I snapped my head around to look behind me. Dale's RV was making an awful screeching noise while billowing some sort of smoke or steam.

"Ain't that a bitch," Daryl muttered as he stopped the motorcycle and turned off the ignition. We got off and walked over them.

"I said it," Dale said as he and the others exited the RV. "Didn't I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water!"

"Problem, Dale," Shane asked.

"Well, it's the small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of-" He cut himself off as he looked around the highway. "Okay," he admitted. "That was dumb."

"Can't find a radiator hose here…" Shane shrugged.

"Whole buncha stuff we could find," Daryl added as he searched through the nearest vehicle.

"Siphon more fuel from these cars, for a start," T-Dog said.

"Maybe some water," Carol piped up.

"Food," Glenn shrugged.

"This is a graveyard," Lori shook her head.

"Nu-uh," I said. "This is a goldmine. With enough searching, we could find enough food, supplies, and fuel to last us 'til Fort Benning."

"These vehicles belonged to other people," Andrea frowned at me.

"And now they don't," I countered. "If we find any evidence that a vehicle has been recently used, we'll leave it alone. In case the owner has plans on coming back soon."

"And how will we know if anyone's been through here," Lori asked.

"Anything that doesn't have a layer of dust, dirt, or cobwebs on it," I said. "Everything else is ours."

Lori looked at Rick. "I don't know how I feel about this."

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at Lori and Rick. I leaned against the vehicle Daryl was searching through and waited. I understood the trepidation. It was a moral that everyone was struggling with to some degree. Taking stuff from a store or gas station was one thing, taking stuff from other people's vehicles was another. Out of all of us, Daryl and I were probably the only ones with any looting experience under our belts.

Shane was the first to speak up. "Come on, y'all," he encouraged. "Just look around. Gather what you can."

Everyone silently split off into their own little groups. Daryl and I split up as well, both of us going solo and at our own pace. I was on the hunt for any essentials and RV parts.

I opened the back of an ambulance that had been the victim of its tires going flat, possibly deliberately slashed judging by the slice marks along the side of the rubber. Unfortunately, aside from some band-aids and some gauze, the ambulance had been cleaned of everything. There wasn't even a gurney.

I jumped out and continued on. Eventually, I came to the same cluster of vehicles Lori and Carol were searching through.

Carol flinched when she saw movement, but relaxed upon seeing me. "You scared me," she muttered. "Hey, do you have any room in that backpack. I found a few things, but no pockets."

"Sure," I nodded as I held my backpack open. I raised a brow as I looked at her jeans. "Fake pockets," I asked amusedly.

She chuckled and nodded.

I shook my head with a smirk. "For some reason, jean companies never thought we'd need 'em. And now the apocalypse happens. Ain't that a bitch?"

"Language, please," Lori scolded, glancing at Carl and Sophia.

"They doin' okay," Carol asked apprehensively, unable to see them from her position.

"I can see 'em," Lori nodded. "Sophia keeps trying to get Carl to play 'I Spy', but he keeps looking into vehicles. He keeps wanting her to look into vehicles, too." Lori sighed worriedly. "He's been wanting to help so bad lately. I just want him to be a kid for as long as he can."

I snorted. "So the kids are out looking for stuff as well, but no Ed? Who's on Ed duty anyway?"

"No one," Carol said as she looked through a pile of clothes. She was looking quickly, forcing herself to be distracted from the new topic in conversation. "He's still in the RV."

"So he's not bothering anybody," I shrugged as I began walking away. "Cool."

"Lori," came Rick's voice as he jogged in our direction. "Under the cars," he hissed frantically.

As they scrambled to gather Sophia and Carl, I climbed on top of the nearest car to get a better look. I knew Rick was warning us about walkers, going by how scared he was, but…Damn.

It wasn't the biggest herd I'd ever seen, but it was big nonetheless. And we had no time. No time to make a plan to redirect the herd, not enough weapons or people to take them all out, and no adequate place to hide. Hiding under the vehicles was the best we had.

I jumped down onto the pavement and dove under the car. The silent highway was now filled with growls and dragging feet.

I watched as Lori and Carol struggled to keep quiet against the fear. It wasn't just the sight of seeing all those walker legs ambling by us that was causing their rising panic. The kids were several feet away from them, huddled under their own vehicles. All Carol, Lori, and Rick could focus on was keeping eye contact with their children until the herd passed.

All fell as quiet as a grave when the last walker finally shuffled away. I looked around at everyone for them to make the first move. I didn't want to get out of hiding yet in case anyone else had a walker nearby, not wanting to accidentally attract attention to anyone still hiding.

I heard light scuffing across the pavement and immediately looked in the direction of the noise. It was Sophia. She was getting out from under the truck, relieved, but still a little fearful. I scrunched my eyebrows as I, too, got out. And that's when it hit me.

The highway. Sophia. Was this where she was supposed to go missing? There weren't any more walkers, so what would prompt it?

It was at that precise moment that two walkers strolled by, both going up to the truck Sophia was hiding beneath. Sophia shrieked in terror, shoving herself back under. I gripped my knife and started getting out from my hiding place to run to the truck. Just as the walker was crawling under the vehicle after her, I grabbed the walker by the ankles, dragged it out, and stabbed it.

Sophia was still whimpering and screaming, and still pushing herself until she was on the other side of the truck. When she saw the other walker, she went to duck under the highway's guardrail. Swiftly, I made my way around, snagged under Sophia's shoulders, and shoved her back under the truck. I looked into her terrified eyes. After I was assured that she was going to stay put, I straightened up to face off with that last walker. I strode forward and stabbed it.

The only sounds to be heard now were Sophia's terrified whimpers and Carol's crying as everyone else shuffled out of hiding.

I knelt down to look at Sophia, just to once again reassure myself. Her lip quivered, her entire body trembled terribly, but she managed a shaky nod.

I nodded back and then climbed up onto the truck bed. I looked around everywhere as well as kept an ear out. I silently thanked everyone for still keeping as quiet as they could. Determining it was all clear, I looked at the RV. From where I was standing, it looked as though Dale had flattened himself against its roof in an effort to remain as invisible as possible.

I whistled once, and Dale perked his head up. I flashed him two thumbs up, and his head dipped in relief as he moved to stand. I opened my mouth wide and chirped. I received a whistle back. From another mess of vehicles, Daryl poked his head up. I gave him the same thumbs up. He nodded in response.

I jumped down from the truck. "I'm gonna go around," I said to Rick. "Make sure everyone's okay."

Rick shook his head. "That should be my responsibility. I'll do it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you memorize which direction everyone went off to?"

After a beat, he shook his head admittedly. Then, he looked surprised. "Did you?"

I shrugged. "It's involuntary, memorizing something like that. It's a weird…defense mechanism I have."

"Defense mechanism?"

"Given that I don't like to be touched, I sometimes remember where people are or where they go just to avoid being touched. It's instinctual at this point. I'm funny like that," I quipped with a scowl. "I'll go make sure everyone is accounted for."

"Thank you," he said.

Before walking away, I saw Carol and Sophia sitting on the pavement, clutching each other for dear life. Tears streamed down their faces as they muttered assurances to each other. When they finally let go of each other, Carl immediately went forward to hug Sophia.

As soon as Carol and I made eye contact, she stood up a came over to me with a purposeful stride. At first I thought she was storming over to me in anger, but then her arms raised.

I took a step back as I tensed. "Look, just wait-"

As soon as her arms came around me, my entire body locked up. I curled my hands into fists and tucked them protectively against my ribs. I forced my lungs to breathe. I wanted to desperately get away, to shove her, to do something, but I tried to be polite about. I tried to wait it out.

"Thank you," Carol whispered. "She's alright. You saved her. Thank you, thank you," she began repeating.

I gritted my teeth together as my eyes slammed shut. For a woman as thin as her, her grip was strong and stifling. Finally, after an eternity, she loosed her grip so that she could rest her hands on the tops of my shoulders.

"Thank you," she sniffled one last time.

I nodded stiffly and finally took the opportunity to shrug her off and walk away. I went in the direction I had seen Daryl. Just as I was getting my breath back, I walked around a set of vehicles to find T-Dog sitting on the ground, clutching his arm and staring off into space.

I stared at the blood. "You bit," I asked.

He shook his head quickly. "Scratched," he rasped. "Piece of metal or glass something from a car." He cringed against the pain. "Pretty bad."

I opened up my backpack as I sat down next to him. I took out a water bottle, gauze, a rag, and sutures. "Bite down on this," I handed him the rag.

"Why," he asked as he finally looked at me, but still in a daze.

"The bleeding's slowed down, but it needs stitches. And it's gonna hurt like a bitch."

He raised a brow at me dubiously. "You done this before?"

I readied the needle and suture. "I was homeless before all this. I had to do my own healthcare."

He pursed his lips, nodded once, and took the rag to bite down on. I poured the entire contents of the water onto his arm. "I have no alcohol or anything to disinfect the wound with," I said as I tossed the water bottle into my bag and got to work. As soon as the needle threaded through his skin, he cried out around the rag. "We'll need to find antibiotics. You're at high risk for an infection right now.

"Good to know," he grumbled, voice muffled.

The cut was long and deep. Just as I was getting done with the last stitch, my sutures ran out. I sighed. "That's the last of them. But you're all done anyway, so that's the good news. Bad news is we need antibiotics."

"I saw…" he said as he gave me the rag and tiredly rubbed at his face. "An ambulance. Across the median."

I nodded. "I saw it. Went inside. Nothing's there. Except for this," I said as I took the gauze out of its packaging and wrapped it around his arm. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell the group about me being homeless."

He snorted. "You think anybody's gonna judge you? Least of all Dixon? After all the things you've done for us?"

"Daryl already knows," I said. "And everyone else…I like to talk and do things on my own terms."

He nodded. "I get you."

As if on cue, I heard Daryl's light footsteps approaching. "Been tryin' to find you," he said as he came into view. "Heard screamin'. Who was it?"

"That was Sophia," I said as I stood up. "She tried to make a run for it. I had to kill a few walkers, but she's alright."

He looked me up and down with concern. "And you?"

"It was only two walkers," I shruged. I gestured to T-Dog. "He's hurt real bad. A piece of a car cut him. I stitched him up, but he'll need antibiotics sooner or later. Can you make sure he gets back to the RV while I try to go find some?"

"No need," he said as he started walking away. "Got stuff in the saddlebags. Come on."

After making sure T-Dog was okay to stand and walk, we followed Daryl.

"Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle," Daryl was saying as he tossed a bunch of rags at Dale.

"What happened to you, T," Dale asked as he pointed at his arm.

"Scratched," T-Dog said.

Shane, who was busy putting large water jugs in the trunk of the car, stalled when he heard that. "By a walker," he demanded as he strode over.

I got in his path. "Back off, Shane," I frowned. "It was a loose car part or something. Not a walker." I shook my head at him before ignoring him. "Don't get everyone worked up."

Daryl was digging around in a saddlebag until he dragged out a Ziploc bag stuffed full of pill bottles. "My brother's stash," he explained to T-Dog and I. Daryl started listing through what he had as he rifled through the bag. "Crystal, X. Don't need that. Got some kick-ass painkillers…Doxycycline," he said as he tossed T-Dog the bottle. "Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class." Daryl put the bag back in the saddlebag. He looked at me and shrugged. "Merle got the clap on occasion."

T-Dog gave a short nod at us in thanks, and he swallowed one of the pills.

"So," Andrea sighed. "What now? We've been picking apart vehicles for hours."

"Carol found a few things," I said as I took the items out of my bag. It was an old magnesium fire starter, a Swiss army knife, and a fish hook set. I set them next to a pile of other supplies that the group had collected. "But you're right. There's not much in this area right now."

"We need to get through this mess," Rick said as he, Lori, Carol, and the kids made their way over. "Our priority is to fix the RV and get to Fort Benning." He glanced around. "We'll have to move vehicles out of the way."

"We shouldn't have to move much," Dale said. "We'll just need to be able turn ourselves around. Once the RV gets running, we can double back to a bypass that Glenn flagged on the map, now that we have enough fuel to do so."

"Going back's gonna be easier than tryin' to get through this mess," Shane agreed.

"Can't be soon enough for me," Andrea said. "I'm still freaked out from that herd that passed us by. Or whatever you call it."

"Yeah," Glenn exhaled. "What was that? All of them just marching along like that?"

"Like we all said," I mused. "They're moving out of the cities. Maybe the bigger herds are keeping to the roads because it's easier than moving through the woods. Less hills, less rocks and roots and things for them to get snagged on."

Glenn shook his head at our surroundings. "As if moving through all of this is any easier."

I shook my head. "We're struggling because we need our cars. That herd passed through here within minutes because they're on foot."

"You really think walkers are smart enough to think things through like that," Andrea asked.

I nodded. "Sort of. Walkers want a quick meal. So they do what they think is easiest to accomplish that. They're slow on the uptake, but they learn things eventually, like how to climb or how to open doors. It just takes them a shit-ton of time to figure it out."

"You've observed walkers," Dale said with a mixture of fascination and mild horror.

"Why not," I shrugged. "They exist. It's only a good idea to learn their habits."

"Takes an animal to know an animal," Shane muttered with a shrug.

Daryl pushed off from the vehicle he was leaning on. "You wanna watch your mouth?"

I put a hand on Daryl's chest to stop him. "Let's just…keep on keeping on." I looked at Rick. "Where do you want all of us?"

Rick looked around at everyone. "Andrea, Lori, I want y'all to start moving vehicles. Dale can keep working on the RV and search around for any more parts he needs. Carol, keep an eye on the kids. Shane, I want you on top of the RV to keep an eye out for things. T-Dog...You should rest."

T-Dog shook his head stubbornly. "I'll keep on siphoning for fuel."

"We got enough fuel," Rick said. "It should be enough to get us to Fort Benning. You've done your part. Rest up."

T-Dog nodded in understanding. "You mind if I chill out in the car. I don't want to have to go into the RV and deal with Ed."

"'Course," Rick nodded. He looked at Daryl and I. "You two keep searching any vehicle you see."

"For what," Daryl scoffed. "Most of these vehicles are already cleaned out. By us or by others."

I looked out towards the woods. "It's almost evening. Daryl and I could do some hunting. See if we can't find us some dinner."

After a moment, Rick nodded. "Alright, but try not to do any gunfire. We don't want that herd circling back to us."

"Can I go with 'em," Carl piped up.

Rick shook his head slightly. "Carl-"

"They could teach me how to track, and how to gut an animal," Carl tried. "And it'd be one less person for Carol to watch."

"But it'd be one more person for Daryl and Layla to watch," Lori countered firmly.

"Please, can I go with 'em? I'll do everything they say, I promise!"

Lori and Rick looked at each other and shook their heads slowly.

"They're right. It's not a good idea, dude," I said to Carl. "Not with that herd still nearby. If Daryl and I have to split up to take care of some walkers, we wouldn't want anything happening to you in the middle of all that chaos."

Carl flexed his jaw with a frown. He looked at his mom and dad. "I just wanna help the group."

"Getting lost in the woods is not the way to do it, baby," Lori said as she knelt to be at eye level with him. "Daryl and Layla know what they're doing. You're still learning."

"I'm not really, though," Carl snapped.

As Lori and Rick tried to reason with Carl, I nodded at Daryl. He nodded back at me. We walked to the shoulder of the highway, climbed over the guardrail, and went down the hill into the woods.

\-------

"The kid's persistent," Daryl said as we followed a deer trail. "I'll give him that."

"He's gonna eventually become a good shot with a gun," I said. "He'll just need to work on his impulsiveness to get there."

"So," Daryl said. "What happens next?"

Ever since Daryl told me he believed me, we hadn't talked about it further. It wasn't an uncomfortable topic, it just hadn't come up since then. Daryl had a tendency to live in the moment, whereas I always looked to the future. Ah, how interesting that sentence is.

"Not quite sure exactly," I said. "If I remember correctly, you guys spend a lot of time on that highway. You were originally looking for Sophia, but she's not missing now, so…I don't know. I know some things that are supposed to happen, I just don't know when." I sighed. "I wonder how this is gonna effect Carol?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sophia ended up becoming a walker. From what you described of Carol, it sounded like a hell of a wakeup call for her. Even hardened her." I paused. "I think Ed was supposed to die, too, but the security system I built saved him from the quarry attack somehow." I stopped to lean against a tree. I sighed again, heavily. "I…These events were caused by me…I don't know if I was supposed to interfere."

Daryl contemplated for a second. "You saved people's lives. Not that I give a shit about Ed's life. But you ain't done nothin' wrong."

I shook my head slowly. "How can you know that? You don't know the future, and now I don't know how much of the future I've fucked up."

"Everything you've done is 'cause you were thinkin' of other people instead of yourself. You ain't done nothin' wrong," he repeated firmly. "Whatever happens now…Just happens, I guess."

My shoulders sagged a little. "I guess," I repeated.

We followed the trail some more, until we had to stop and rethink. The deer that were part of the trail separated from each other at some point. One trail went one way, the other trail went another way. Daryl and I looked at each other, nodded once, and split up.

After an almost solid hour of hiking, I followed the trail to a small clearing. A large buck stood not too far away from me, grazing peacefully. Despite being partially hidden by some low tree branches, I was very close to the deer and it hadn't taken notice of me yet. Quietly, I crouched down, removed my bow from my shoulders, and nocked an arrow.

As soon as I raised my bow, the deer's head perked up. His eyes stared at me cautiously. I pulled back the arrow, and the deer did something very interesting. Its posture relaxed, and it looked away for a second before looking back at me. Nothing in this deer's body language was signaling that it was going to bolt.

I lowered my bow and tilted my head. Humans were far and few in between now. This buck didn't seem young, but with how vast the Georgia woodlands were, it was possible that this buck had yet to have any human contact. Deer were naïve creatures when it came to other creatures that had yet to meet. Although, that was a weak theory given how populated the world was only a few months ago.

I shrugged curiously and aimed my bow again. As fascinating as it was, I still had to bring something back for the group to eat. I took my time aiming so its death would be as swift and painless as possible. Just as I started to pull back the arrow again, a gunshot rang through the air.

Burning exploded in my ribcage as I stumbled backwards.


	19. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer:** I have no knowledge of medical practices.It's basically Layla's stubbornness against a painful situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : I have no knowledge of medical practices. It's basically Layla's stubbornness against a painful situation.

"Motherfucker," I cried out as I struggled upright. With the pain burning through my body, I felt like I had no traction under my feet. As soon as I was standing, I let my shoulder fall against a tree for support.

Pressing my hand against the wound, I used my other hand to drop my bow and bring out my knife. I looked around wildly. The deer in front of me was lying lifelessly on the ground, a bullet wound in him as well.

"Oh my god," a trembling voice exclaimed. "Oh my god!" A portly man holding a rifle stumbled into the clearing to make his way over to me. "I-I shot you! I-I didn't mean..! I swear I didn't mean-"

"Jesus goddamn Christ," I muttered as I put my knife away. His face was full of regret, pure shock, and uncertainty. He even started to pace in front of me a little. I shook my head as I grabbed at one of my backpack straps. This man was no threat to me.

"Son of a bitch," I snapped as I took my hand off the strap. I remembered I had no sutures to close the wound, and I had no more matches left to cauterize. I grunted as I now pushed both of my hands against the wound to try and stop the blood flow.

"Why the fuck did you shoot me," I demanded through clenched teeth.

God, was his apologetic stammering getting on my nerves. "I'm-I'm sorry! The deer! I was-" He stopped to jostle his rifle. "The deer! Oh, god!" He buried his face in his hands, but kept one eye open to stare at my wound in horror.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what? Fuck this! Can you pull a doctor's office out of your ass? Nope! Didn't think so!" I shoved my shoulder against the tree to push off, and I had to gnash my teeth together to stop from crying out. My hands left my side for a brief second and I felt blood splash onto my foot.

I muttered a string of curses as I finally ripped my backpack from my shoulders.

"I can help," I vaguely heard him repeating. "I-I live on a f-farm-"

"Hand me my bow," I snapped at him as I fished out some rags from my pack.

Obediently, swiftly, he grabbed my bow and handed it to me. I used my knife to cut the bowstring clean through. Putting the rag over my wound, I wound the bowstring around my waist and over the rag. I tied it as tight as I could stand it.

"Listen to me, I can help!"

I ignored him, staring up at the sun and trying to use that as a compass. I needed to make it back to the highway. I hoped there were stitches in that ambulance and I had simply glossed over them.

I stopped.

Looking back at the panicking man, I said, "A farm?"

"Yes," he exclaimed. "A farm! Me and my family! There's a guy there, a doctor! He can help you!"

A smile twitched my lips for the briefest of seconds, before forcing them to be serious. "Okay," I nodded. "Just…" I glanced around. "Give me one…"

With a shaky breath, I chirped as loud as my lungs would let me. I instantly bit down on my fist to prevent from crying out, only letting a small whimper escaped.

The man walked closer to me in confusion. "Wha-"

I held my hand up to cut him off. I listened.

Nothing.

I chirped again.

Yet again, I didn't hear a whistle responding in kind.

"Fuck," I muttered. "Okay…How far is this farm?"

"Less than three miles," he said hurriedly. He kept glancing at my wound worriedly.

I blew out a puff of air. "Three miles it is, then. Point the way." I had a rough idea of where the highway was from here, but Daryl was out of whistle range. Not only was I too far away from him, but I could very well be too far from where the group was. Getting to Hershel's farm would be my best bet for survival.

As we jogged, pain jolted my body over and over again. It wasn't enough that I had a bullet lodged in my ribs, but the thin pressure of the bowstring felt like it was cutting into me with every step. The man told me his name was Otis, and he was struggling to keep pace with me.

"Come on, man," I said with a strained smirk. "Who's the one with a bullet in her side?"

Suddenly, he stopped altogether, putting his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. His stopping made me screech to a halt. As soon as I did so, I realized the adrenaline had worn off a long time ago. The pain shooting through my body wasn't because of how fast we were moving, but was actually now constant. It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. My knees shuddered, trying to force me to the ground.

"We have to keep going," I hissed at him, almost strained to the limit. "That includes you! I have no idea where the farm is."

He shook his head and pointed beyond us. "The farm…is straight that way…About a mile now." He stared at my wound again. The blood was seeping through the rag and dripping onto the dirt. "But-but…You…"

I chuckled bitterly as I got out another rag from my pocket. "You don't think I'll make it?" I took out the old rag and replaced it with the new one. "Motherfucker," I cried out as the pressure reapplied. I gasped in pain as I looked at Otis. "Guess I'm gonna have to prove you wrong."

I started off in the direction Otis pointed to, but stopped myself. I glanced back at his rifle. "How many bullets you got left?"

He was still huffing and puffing, almost kneeling on the ground at this point. "A-a couple. Yeah, a couple."

I flexed my jaw. "You use 'em if you have to. And if I hear you firing...I'll come back and help."

That made him look up at me incredulously. "You're the one who's injured!"

"Not the first time I've been shot," I said as I turned away. "Won't be my last."

I tried to keep myself at a jog, to pace myself. It would do me no good if I passed out from exhaustion. My body protested angrily every step of the way. My abdomen burned intensely, my lungs felt like they would give out, and the bowstring was now literally cutting into me.

The woodlands gave way to vast fields of wild grass waving with the light evening breeze. The breeze felt wonderful on my skin, but that was the only thing positive. My pace was stuttering. This wasn't normal of me to go this long without tending to a wound.

My breathing was getting shallower and shallower. Dizziness clouded my vision and dampened my coordination. I couldn't tell whether all of it was from exhaustion, blood loss, or perhaps the bullet nicked a lung.

By the time the farmhouse came into view, the sky had started to darken. I sighed in relief. I wanted to stop right then and there, and my feet were already beginning to slow. With a determined growl, I ran. Full-tilt, as if I had walkers nipping at my heels. I didn't stop, not until I got beyond the fences.

I practically stumbled across the driveway. I made it halfway up the porch steps before my foot caught and I fell forward. My bow flew from my grip and landed across the porch with a harsh clatter. I let my forehead drop on a step in front of me, trying to catch my breath to at least get up and knock on the door.

I heard the creaking of the front door. There was a silent pause. Then, I heard a voice yelling, "Dad!" And the door closed loudly. I looked up at the door as I slowly climbed to my feet. Everything was so quiet I thought for a second I had imagined Maggie's voice.

I watched as the porch door swung open. Out came Hershel and Maggie, concern and fear dancing across their faces. I must've looked quite a picture. Sweat was pouring off of my pallor skin in buckets, blood was dripping down my side onto the steps, and my legs visibly shook as I stood in front of them with a huge, happy smile on my face.

"Man," I exclaimed. "It is so good to see you guys!"

"Are you bit," Maggie's eyes flashed to my wound.

"Nah," I shook my head. "Ah," I winced, putting my hand to my forehead as a head-rush swarmed me. "Shouldn't do that again. Uh, no," I continued. "Not a bite. Gunshot. Otis sent me. He said you were a doctor."

Hershel regarded me carefully for a moment.

"Daddy," Maggie said quickly. "What do you want us to do?"

He nodded at me resolutely, but the suspicion hadn't quite left his face yet. "Come inside with us. We'll see what we can do. Maggie, go get the others. We may need all hands on deck. Can you walk?"

I nodded as I carefully navigated up the steps and into the house ahead of him. "I've made it this far. Don't count me out just yet."

"No," he agreed as he walked passed me to lead me to a bedroom. "Something tells me I shouldn't. Lay down on the bed. What's your name?"

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," I spat as I had to curl myself a little to get situated. "Layla," I gasped out as I finally got myself to lie on the center of the bed.

As soon as I was as comfortable as I could get with a bullet lodged inside me, people swarmed the room.

"What's happening," a woman asked. "Who is this?"

Hershel gave her a quick glance as he readied the room. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates. Grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol. I need it all in here!"

I cringed as everyone got to work. "Hold up, now," I flinched as I tried to sit up. "All I'll need is the medical supplies, and a place to rest for an hour or two." Hershel frowned at me. "And you have all that. I can take care of this myself."

Hershel looked at everyone else in the room, who had stopped to stare at me doubtfully. He shook his head stubbornly. "Move, everyone. We don't wanna lose time."

My head fell back on the pillow in exasperation. "This is unnecessary, all this fussing. I've always taken care of my own wounds."

"If you've always taken care of your own wounds," Hershel said as he got out a bag of saline. "Then, why come here?"

"'Cause I don't have the medical supplies," I shot back irritably, but, damn, did I miss his stubbornness.

"Beth, hold this," Hershel asked as he handed her the bag and readied an IV catheter.

As soon as Beth stepped into view, I almost said the words, 'God, Daryl would be so happy to see you.' But I bit my tongue. I looked up at the ceiling and chuckled lightly. Who knew I had to get eaten by walkers to have a family reunion? Mind, these weren't my blood relatives, and how I overall got here was kind of fucked up, but a family reunion nonetheless.

"Hey," I suddenly snapped as fingers touched my arm. I glared at Hershel.

"I need to get fluids in you," he said stoically. How could a person with such a neutral expression still glare back at you? "Will you let us help you?"

I looked around at everyone helping Hershel ready his medical supplies. Maggie glanced at me for a second before getting back to prepping. "You look like you came a long way," she said. "You really think you have enough energy to do this by yourself?"

I opened my mouth to protest.

"Without making mistakes or passing out halfway through," Hershel added.

I shut it, and relaxed into the bed. "Fuck it," I muttered.

Could I do it myself? Yes. Could I do it successfully? Minutes prior to arriving on the farm, sure. However, I didn't have to look in a mirror to know I was in rough shape. My hands shook with a mixture of blood loss, fatigue, and now hunger. My head was foggy and dizzy as well. It would be too easy for me to make an error right now. The only thing I wanted to do was patch myself up, take a breather, and get back to Daryl. I wouldn't accomplish that if I accidentally hit an artery or just made it worse in general.

I stuck my arm out at Hershel. I jumped again when he grabbed it to start inserting the needle. "Are you gonna let us work," he asked me.

"You're lucky I trust you," I grumbled petulantly.

"Why's that," he asked. "You don't even know us."

"Eh," I grunted ominously.

"You said you saw Otis out there," he said as he made his way over to the other side of the bed to get a better look at the wound.

"Otis," Patricia asked, dropping what she was doing. "What happened? Where is he?"

"Otis – Ah!" I flinched in pain as Hershel cut the bowstring and removed the rag from the bullet hole. "Otis was the one who shot me."

"What?!" Patricia put her hand over her mouth.

"It was an accident," I explained as everyone stopped to look at me with wide eyes. "He shot me…Er, he was shooting the deer, and he missed. Or maybe he shot the deer and the bullet passed through and hit me. The deer was on the ground." I chuckled tiredly. "Wouldn't that be cinematic?"

Hershel shook his head and put his attention on the wound. "I think she's starting to get delirious. I need a scalpel, tweezers, sutures, towels, a tray, and extra gloves."

"I'm not delirious," I chuckled again. "I'm just crazy."

"That's an understatement," I heard Maggie mutter.

"Maggie," Beth scolded.

"Y'all didn't see her standing on the front porch the way she was," was Maggie's response. "No offense," she added with a small apologetic smile.

I smiled back. "None taken."

"Where is he now," Patricia asked.

"Headed this way," I said. "He was about a mile or so behind me."

"You couldn't have come all that way," Hershel said as he used his thumbs to carefully – but no less painfully – inspect the damage. "You would've passed out by then."

"That and then some," I grumbled, trying to ignore what he was doing. "We've been running for nearly three miles."

Everyone stared at me with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Hershel was stunned enough that he let his hands fall to the bed.

I cleared my throat. "So, how's it looking, doc," I asked, trying to keep him on track because I did not want to bleed out, and I think I was very close to that.

Hershel looked at the discarded bowstring and rag. "What's your blood type," he asked as he removed his gloves.

"No clue."

Hershel's expression was neutral again, but now with a hint of worry and confusion. "If the bullet did pass through a deer, it would explain why the wound isn't so deep. The deer slowed it down. That's the good news. Bad news is it fragmented. I've counted six total pieces. Thank you," he added to Patricia as she handed him the surgical tray with everything he needed on it. He set the tray on a night stand and put clean gloves on.

"That string and that rag have been your saving grace," he continued. "Without them, you would've bled to death long before getting here. But…" He paused to stare at me worriedly. "I make no guarantees. Without knowing your blood type, we can't safely give you more blood. And without a proper ER, we can only move as fast as we're able."

He put his attention on the surgical tray. He handed a rag to Maggie. "Mop up the blood as I go," he instructed as he got out the scalpel and tweezers. "I have no general anesthesia," he continued to explain to me. He looked me square in the eyes. "I cannot make any guarantees."

I nodded once, solidly. "Do what you gotta do," I huffed tiredly. "Just…walk me through as you go. I…don't like being touched."

"You shouldn't worry yourself too much," Hershel said apologetically. "Eventually, you'll more than likely pass out from pain." He sighed as he moved the scalpel and tweezers towards my skin. "You should've passed out already."

"My god," I smirked weakly. "The optimism in this room is fantastic."

"I'm starting now."

The scalpel slid through my skin.

I shrieked, fisting my hands into the comforter.

"Jimmy," Hershel said evenly. "Hold her down."

I shook my head rapidly as a young man appeared into view. "I can keep myself still!"

Hershel was shaking his head. "No, you can't. Jimmy's gonna have to hold you down."

"Motherfucking tits," I screeched as Jimmy held my arms and chest down, worsening the pain and making me go haywire. "If I bite this dude," I snarled through clenched teeth. "I am not gonna be held accountable."

Jimmy flashed Hershel with a fearful glance. "Just hold her," he said to Jimmy. He adjusted his grip on the tweezers. "I'm gonna pull out the first fragment now."

"Gimme a rag to bite down on," I said quickly. As soon as I was given one, I nodded at Hershel.

The next few…minutes? Hours? I didn't know, but time seemed to move at top speed and at a snail's pace all at once. Between the fragment removals, scalpel slicing, exhaustion, pain, trying shove at the arms that held me down, muffled cries around the rag… Time was irrelevant through it all.

I tried and failed to hold back a scream as yet another fragment was plucked from my body.

If I were doing it myself, I'd have had more awareness. I _could've_ done it myself. But time and supplies were not on my side, and I didn't want to fuck up. I had just found Daryl again, and the last thing I wanted to do was try and repair the wound only to make it worse and end up dead. That's what I kept justifying to myself as I let them work on the bullet wound.

That didn't mean I was no less terrified that I didn't have complete control of the situation, and I knew my face and struggling movements were speaking volumes in that regard. I knew that if someone wasn't holding me down, I would've messed up Hershel's work. I knew that if I didn't have a rag in my mouth, that I would've bitten the poor guy that was holding me down. And, man, did I feel sorry for him. Not only was sweat pouring down his face, but he kept glancing between me and Hershel with a consistent look of fear. I must've been glaring daggers at him throughout the ordeal, as if it were his fault.

I faintly heard the clatter of metal on a tray. There was a voice, too. "…you…h…me…Can…Layla," Hershel asked as his voice started to clear up. "Can…r me...? Are you with us, still?"

I nodded once, my eyes drooping heavily.

"We're gonna give you a break for just a moment. Can you speak," he asked as he removed the rag.

"How's…" I rasped. "How's th…" I paused. "Fuck me, I'm exhausted."

"Still think you could've handled this yourself," he asked.

Feebly, I curled my fist, tilted it into view, and showed him my middle finger. His lips twitched upwards slightly. My hand fell back to the mattress with a soft thud.

"You've been very lucky," he said. "Your lungs, bones, arteries, everything's intact."

"Ah, just a...pesky hole to deal with," I shrugged. "Nothing major."

He chuckled. "Just a pesky hole," he repeated. He cleared his throat to get back to seriousness. "The only thing that needs done is removing the last fragment, and then stitching you up. Are you ready," he asked as he retrieved the scalpel and tweezers.

"Bring it on," I smirked. "Hey…When all this is over…Can I…keep the bullet fragments in a jar. I'll…tell people I got my appendix removed…Show 'em the jar…and watch the confusion… on their faces."

"Maggie," I heard Beth say. "I agree with you."

Hershel shook his head incredulously as he moved the tools towards my skin again. "You know," he said. "There's no shame in passing out. I'm surprised you've made it this long without doing so. Your body needs to rest and forcing yourself to stay awake through all this is taxing."

"Bring it on," I simply repeated.

"Layla-"

"If I pass out," I interrupted as strongly as I could. "I may never wake up again...Just do it."

As soon as I said those words, he put the rag back in my mouth. I felt the tweezers and scalpel. The metal invaded my insides for a few seconds more. I snarled loudly around the rag as the fragment was yanked out.

"Do you want me to get more saline, dad," Beth asked.

"No," he replied as he readied for sutures. "You can put everything down, but keep the catheter in her arm. Just in case. See if you can fix up some food for her."

"God," I exhaled as I spat out the rag. "Yes, please!"

Hershel put the rag back up to my mouth. "I've yet to do the stitches."

I shook my head. "I won't need it for stitches…And I need to breath." I looked up at Jimmy. "You can let go of me now."

Hershel nodded at Jimmy after a second. I inhaled thankfully as Jimmy finally stepped away. Then, I exhaled harshly when I felt the needle go in and out of skin, but made no other moves or noises. "So, doctor or nurse," he asked casually as he continued to work the needle in and out of my side.

I raised a brow. "What," I asked through clenched teeth.

"Did you have a career in the medical field," he asked. "The amount of confidence you have with all this…"

I shrugged slightly. "I'm no stranger...to taking care of my own boo-boos."

He simply nodded respectfully.

I glanced around. Hershel, Maggie, and I were the only ones left in the room. My gaze fell on the window, and I noticed there was still a bit of daylight left.

"Damn, you're good," I said. "You did…this procedure within minutes."

"Hardly," Maggie said as she got out a clean rag to wipe up more blood. "It's been hours."

"What're you talking about? It's still daylight out."

"Early morning," Hershel corrected.

My brain stalled a little. "Ah," was all that I could muster in acknowledgement.

"We all had to take breaks here and there," he explained. "Sometimes I had to take my time so as not to hit an artery or other vital; the wound is extremely close to your lungs. Sometimes someone would have to leave the room to track down a medical supply. Like I said, we intended to move as fast as we could."

"All for someone…you don't know," I mused.

He shrugged. "You showed up on my doorstep. Didn't give us much of a choice."

"Suppose not," I responded.

"Done," he said as he sat back to inspect his work. "That should do it, but now we have another problem. Antibiotics. I asked Patricia to go find some. She practically turned this house upside down, but she came up with nothing."

"What about that hospital," Maggie asked.

Hershel shook his head. "Otis and I searched that hospital after Nellie had gotten scraped on some fencing, remember? It got destroyed. I was thinking of the FEMA shelter set up at the high school."

Maggie frowned. "We can't get near that place without getting eaten."

"No need to go on a run," I muttered. "My boyfriend…has a bunch of medication leftover…from his brother. Should be some…antibiotics left."

Maggie straightened up and wiped her hands on a clean rag. "Whereabouts?"

"On the highway. Not long after…the road turns into a four-lane."

"Right," Maggie nodded determinedly. "I know where that is. What's his name? What's he look like?"

"Daryl. Short hair. Has a...crossbow on him."

Maggie nodded. Before she headed out of the room, Hershel said, "Wait."

Maggie stopped in the doorway.

Hershel glanced at me, then out the window to look at his farm, and then focused on Maggie again. With a heavy sigh, he said, "Just…be careful."

Maggie nodded.

"Wait," it was my turn to say.

Maggie stopped again.

"Thank you," I said. "All of you."

"You're welcome," Maggie said, and then left.

"You're welcome," Hershel said as well as he stood up. "I'd ask if you want some company to keep an eye on you, but something tells me you'll refuse." I snorted. "Beth should be along with some food." He paused to frown disapprovingly. "You really do need to rest. We'll keep checking in on you, make sure your vitals are steady."

My eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I can't yet. Not when I'm like this."

Probably knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with the current subject, he said, "Your boyfriend's probably worried sick. I'm sure he can't wait to see you."

I shook my head. "They're all doing fine. Me disappearing for hours or even a full day is nothing new to them."

"Them?"

I turned my head to look at him. His face and posture were tense, but, once again, still neutral.

"The group me and my boyfriend are travelling with." I paused. "I know you're not fond of people. I can tell just by how you looked at me when I arrived, and how you're looking at me now."

Hershel cautiously searched my eyes for a few seconds. "As soon as you're well and able, we can send you and your people on your way."

I sighed. "Hershel-"

He closed the bedroom door as he left, stopping any further discussion.


	20. Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Daryl insulting Otis. Also, my WiFi glitched while editing this chapter. There may be some misplaced italics, but I think I got them all.
> 
> Once again, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed! So, a quick heads up. Most of you know my writing style by now, that I don't explain things right away. Throughout the next several chapters or so, there are going to be things you might find confusing. By all means, you can express your confusion in a review. Just know that things will be explained gradually, as always. Once again, thank you. Your reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed.

"Thank you," I said to Beth while she handed me the plate. I grunted painfully as I moved myself to sit up. I was still very much tired and more than a little out of it. I couldn't wait to get some food in me.

"It's no problem," she replied kindly as she set a glass of orange juice on the nightstand.

"No, really," I said seriously. _Thank you for keeping Daryl grounded after the fall of the prison. Thank you for giving him reasons to never give up._ I couldn't voice those things, no matter how much I wanted to. I had never gotten a chance to express those sentiments due to her death at that damned hospital. "Thank you," I repeated softly, looking her squarely in the eyes, trying to convey as much gratitude as I could.

She looked at me funnily for a few seconds, trying to understand why my words held weight.

"If there's anything you guys need help with," I said, changing the subject. "Just let me know."

She glanced at my bullet wound. "We won't expect that of you," she shook her head. "You ran here from three miles away with a bullet in your side. You oughta rest."

"I always pull my weight, doesn't matter if I'm injured." I paused. "Otis was right behind me, right? He made it back?"

"Yeah, not too long after you got here," she nodded. "He's been wantin' to know how you're doing. We've been keepin' him in the loop." She paused. "You should know how sorry he is. He said the bullet passed right on through the buck. He didn't see you hidin' in the brush, otherwise he wouldn't've even thought about shootin'."

"You see me holding a grudge," I asked with a half-smirk. "Is he around? I need to speak with him."

"He's out doin' the mornin' chores right now," she explained as she made for the door. "I'll go tell him you wanna see him."

After devouring the sandwich and downing half of the juice, I gingerly lied back down, and spent my time staring at the ceiling or out the window. The window was open slightly, allowing a relaxing breeze to circulate the room. The only other thing I could do was listen to the sounds of the farm; chickens clucking, a horse clopping across a field, a barn door opening and closing.

I remembered when Daryl said that there was a barn somewhere on the property with walkers in it. Sophia was supposed to be one of them. I wasn't worried, though, given that Shane was supposed to be the one to bust it open. That told me that nothing was going to open that barn from within, that no walker should be able to claw or tear its way out. Either I wasn't worried because of that logic, or I was simply too tired to care.

I also remembered an inkling of something Daryl had told me when it came to Otis. Carl was the one who had gotten shot, making Otis go on a run for medical supplies. Shane was involved in the run, as well, and when he came back without Otis, it was almost obvious that he'd killed him. Thankfully, given that I wasn't on death's door, Otis and Shane didn't have a reason to go on that run. Also, it was highly doubtful that Shane would ever go on a run for something I would need.

The sandwich and juice were wonderful. I didn't feel any stronger, but at least my stomach was no longer bitching. Even the fog in my head cleared a little, more awareness returning. But that meant things were a little clearer now, including the searing pain. That entire side of my body felt like one big open wound.

I lifted the hem of the clean shirt Patricia had given me and finally let myself look at it. I had been ignoring it as best I could until now, trying to soldier through the ordeal as well as trying to keep my pride intact. The wound was bigger than when I'd first been shot. All that running through the woods, scalpel work, and thrashing on the bed had seen to that. The incision sight was long and irritated, starting just below my ribcage and reaching all the way to my hip.

I grumbled irritably as I tried to stay still. I kept having the urge to stretch or get up and walk around, instinctually wanting to do something to keep myself busy, and distract myself from the pain. How long had it been since Hershel finished the procedure? Judging by the sunlight now shining into the room, about three hours.

Only three measly hours.

"Bed rest is so much fun," I grumbled.

"Hi," came a meek voice. I glanced up at the doorway to see a nervous Otis. "Um," he started carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"I'd like to know that as well," Hershel said as Otis stepped aside to let him into the room. He pulled up a chair and sat down. "Mind if I look?"   
I nodded. 

He lifted the shirt to examine the sutures. After a minute, he let the shirt fall back into place. "There's a lot of redness, but that's more than likely due to how new it is. No sign of infection yet." He reached into one of his pockets. "I can't give you a jar to use, but if you're really intent on keeping them…" He placed a Ziploc bag containing the now clean bullet fragments on the nightstand.

I chuckled. "It was a joke, but thank you."

"Listen," Otis said from where he still stood next to the doorway, as if afraid to enter further. "I know I've said it a million times already, but…I'm sorry. So, so sorry. I…" He suddenly looked very perplexed and highly shocked. "Beth said you're not holding a grudge. Why?! I shot you!"

"And it was an accident," I replied. "You didn't know I was there. I forgive you."

He sagged his head with a heavy sigh. "Thank you! Look, if there's anything you need, anything I can do to make it up to you-"

"There is something you can do," I interrupted calmly after I glanced again at the bullet fragments. "You can keep your lip zipped."

His eyebrows came together. "What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem like the apologetic type," I said sarcastically. "I forgive you, but Daryl-"

"Who's Daryl," he asked.

"My boyfriend," I replied, trying to hide a small smile at using those words. "Plainly speaking, Daryl's not gonna give a damn about your apologies. No matter what you say, he's only gonna see you as the dumbass who shot me." He opened his mouth to speak, but I kept talking. "He's gonna wanna know what happened, and I'm gonna tell him."

I tried to sit up a little, as if doing so would enunciate the gravity of my words. " _Me_. Not you. I know how to talk to him when things get rough, and I don't need you opening your mouth. He won't see this as an accident. He'll see this as threat." I looked him in square in the eyes. "He'll see _you_ as a threat."

Otis squirmed in place as I said that, looking away almost respectfully. Hershel looked tensely between Otis and me.

"Do you think Daryl will try to hurt him," Hershel asked.

"No doubt, and he'll do so immediately," I said, still keeping my eyes on Otis. "If Otis opens his mouth, that is. I'll talk Daryl through what happened. I can do so in a way that he shouldn't fly off the handle."

"He sounds like an impulsive type," Hershel remarked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I responded confidently. "And if he does try anything, I'll step in."

Hershel frowned and shook his head. "You're in no condition to do so." He turned to Otis. "Maybe you oughta…leave the property for a day or so. Go on another hunting trip or something. Just until this Daryl cools down."

"This is your home," I shook my head quickly. "I can't have Otis do that because of me or Daryl. It's not right." I glanced between Hershel and Otis. "I've known Daryl for a really long time now. I can handle him. Trust me."

Hershel rubbed his fingers over his eyelids.

"Do you understand, Otis," I asked.

Otis nodded once. He gave me one last apologetic look before leaving the room.

Hershel stood up. He wiped his hands off on a rag as he stared at me with uncertainty. "Are you sure Otis isn't in any danger?"

I raised a brow at him. "Now, I didn't say that. Daryl might consider swinging a punch at him just to get it out of his system. I'll try and stop him from doing that as well, but at least he shouldn't be on the warpath by that point. Daryl isn't a dog. I can't command him to do anything. All I can do is reason with him." I gave him a knowing look. "I make no guarantees."

Hershel sighed, not convinced. After a second, he pointed to the bullet fragments. "Do you wanna keep those, or not?"

"Keep 'em there. Some of the group might think it'd be cool to look at 'em."

Hershel surprised me by sitting back down. He was staring at me with a steady and unreadable expression.

"When Otis came back, I asked him about his side of the story, asked him about you. Other than for the mass amounts of swearing, he didn't have a bad thing to say about you." He paused. "Otis told me how you were worried about the amount of bullets he had left. Why?"

I blinked, confused as to what it was even a question. "I wanted to make sure he had enough ammo so he could make it back home safely."

His eyebrows scrunched. "Your first experience with Otis was that of him shooting you…And you were _worried_ about him. You even said you would turn around and help him if need be."

I shrugged. "Like I said, I don't hold grudges, especially against someone who clearly didn't mean for it to happen. He's a nice person. The last thing I'd want is for him to not make it home. I would be the one to deal with that guilt."

"You would protect a stranger," he asked slowly. "even with a fatal wound?"

"So long as they posed no threat? In a heartbeat."

Hershel didn't respond to that. He just kept his face as neutral as ever. However, his eyes were scanning me carefully, trying to make sense of my words, and the situation as a whole. His intense scrutiny was interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle engine. I couldn't help but grin widely when I heard it.

"It's been a peaceful day so far," Hershel breathed as he stood up. "For the most part. Guess all that's about to change."

As Hershel left the room, I thought, _You have no idea, my friend._

When the motorcycle engine turned off, I could hear the sounds of a horse's hooves fidgeting over gravel, and Maggie's voice asking something. For a few short seconds, only the light breeze swaying tree branches could be heard.

A cautious whistle pierced the peaceful air.

With an even wider grin, I chirped back, and flinched as my lungs and side protested when I did that.

I heard the front door of the house bang open, with the door shuddering loudly in protest. Frantic boots pounded against hardwood floor until they stopped at the bedroom door. Daryl stood there in the doorway, holding his crossbow in one hand and my longbow in the other. He was staring at me with wide eyes that held a hint of panic.

"What's up," I greeted casually, breaking the silence.

He exhaled in relief, but his relaxed demeanor lasted for only a split second. After he leaned our bows against the wall next to my backpack – he must've gotten my bow off the porch if no one had bothered to get it this whole time – he started pacing jaggedly, staring at me with narrow, anxiety-ridden eyes. Then, in three quick strides, he was across the room and at the bedside.

He leaned over me and, in a gesture I had yet to see from him, gently cupped my cheek. It was an interesting contradiction given how tense he was. Now only inches apart, his eyes quickly searched my face, and then my body.

His words were an anxious rush. "Where's the wound?"

"First of all, I'm fine," I said calmly, placing my hand over his to keep it there, tilting my head into it slightly.

He wasn't convinced in the slightest. "That cowgirl said you got shot. Now where's-"

With a sigh, I lifted my shirt. His hand fell from my face. His eyes silently traced over the long row of sutures that held my skin together. Slowly, he started to bring his hand close, as if about to soothe his fingers over the wound. Quick as a shot, he jerked his hand away and went back to furiously pacing the room, all while not taking his eyes off of where the bullet had left its mark.

I shook my head at him. "Daryl-"

"Don't tell me you're fine," Daryl snapped. "Don't tell me you're fine! You got a damned hole in your side!"

"And now it's stitched up."

The yelling started quicker than I thought it would. "You coulda died! Whoever the hell did this, I'm gonna-" He cut himself off, snarling loudly through clenched teeth. "Why the hell didn't you make it back to the highway?! Why the hell didn't you call for me?!"

"The highway was too far," I snapped back. "And so were you! You didn't hear me! You couldn't whistle back!" Then, I exhaled slowly, trying to keep this from turning into a shouting match. "I'm alive, dammit. It's not the first time I've been shot. I've had worse. Hell, someone tried to gut me like a deer the one time. I've even had to cut off my own arm. This bullet is child's play."

With a distracted snarl, not really listening to my words, he stomped back over to the bedside. He got out a pill bottle from his pocket and yanked open the cap. After taking out a pill, he closed the bottle and all but slammed it down on the nightstand next to the bullet fragments.

Snatching my wrist, he placed the pill in the palm of my hand. "Take that," he grunted. "Cowgirl said you needed antibiotics."

"Her name is Maggie," I corrected with mild irritation. "What about T-Dog?"

"I split the pills up. You got half, he's got half," he said as he sank onto the chair that Hershel was just in.

I swallowed the pill. I reached for the orange juice, ignoring the way my body protested at the simple lean. I took a sip, set it back on the nightstand, and picked up the pill bottle.

I gave it a little shake and frowned. "There's not much in here," I muttered. "Which means T-Dog doesn't have much either. I'll take one or two more when I need to, and then T-Dog can have the rest."

Daryl scoffed. "You can't think of yourself for more than five minutes, can you," he grumbled.

I frowned at him. He wasn't looking at me, opting to glare a hole in the opposite wall. He had his chin on his fists and his elbows on his knees. His shoulders were hunched, and every now and then one of his legs bounced apprehensively. All of this told me he was experiencing a mixture of fury, fear, and total anxiety all at once.

I leaned again, this time to stroke my thumb over his knuckles. His shoulders relaxed, but everything else remained the same. "I'm gonna be fine, okay," I said. "I'll be up and about before you know it." I pulled my hand back and scowled at the room. "And I hope it's sooner rather than later. I'm already going stir-crazy."

Still glaring at the wall, he said, "You know, when most people get shot, they wanna rest for a long-ass time."

I tsked. "I didn't get that memo."

He finally looked at me. The harshness was gone, but the stress was still clearly there. Then, he looked at the nightstand. He picked up the Ziploc bag and rattled it.

"What's this?"

"The bullet. It fragmented. Hershel had to take 'em all out of me individually. That's one of the reasons why the wound is as big as it is."

His gaze drifted to my torso. He set the bag down, and then went to touch the hem of my shirt. He paused and looked at me, waiting. When I nodded, he lifted the hem to inspect the wound again.

"You see who did it," he asked. "Or did they turn tail and run when they saw who they were up against?" He let the shirt fall back into place. "You remember what they looked like," he asked, frown deepening, silently threatening who did this.

I puffed my cheeks and blew out the air. "So," I started, slowly, carefully. "Here's what's going on-" I stopped when I heard the floorboards creaking.

Otis was standing in the doorway.

My jaw clenched. I did my best to stare Otis down from where I was sitting. "You need…to leave," I said, as if speaking to a child.

Otis shook his head at me. "Please," he begged, looking at Daryl. "Let me say my piece-"

"Yeah. I really can't let you do that." I was glaring now, trying to convey the warning I had already given this dumbass. "Son of a…" I trailed off as my side twinged sharply when I shifted edgily.

"Who the hell are you," Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes at him. He kept glancing at me out of his peripheral, trying to make sense of my suddenly uptight body language.

"I'm Otis. I'm one of the farmhands here," he greeted nervously. He gestured to me. "I'm…the reason she ended up like this. It was my fault, and I know no apology could ever cover it, but… I'm sorry." He shifted from foot to foot as he waited for Daryl's reaction.

Daryl froze at his words. Then, painstakingly, he rose to his feet. "You sayin' you're the one who shot her," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. He stared directly into Otis' eyes as he started walking stiffly towards him.

My head fell back on the pillow in exasperation. "God damn, motherfucking…" I whispered to the ceiling. Trying to waste no time, I forced my body to sit completely upright. I flung my legs out from underneath the covers and let my feet fall to the floorboards. Huffing, already tiring, I put my attention back on the matter at hand.

Daryl was now inches away from Otis.

Otis swallowed fearfully. After briefly making eye contact with me, he focused on Daryl again. "Y-yes," Otis muttered shakily.

Daryl's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Daryl," I said firmly as I stood up, though knowing my words would be in vain. "It was an accident."

Otis's terrified yell tore through the room as Daryl grabbed him and shoved him into the wall. The house's foundation shook and groaned with the impact. Daryl went forward again, slamming his arm across Otis' chest and holding him there.

Ignoring my body as it screamed at me in sheer pain, I quickly staggered across the room. Just as Daryl's fist was coming up, I slammed my uninjured side against him, forcing him to stumble sideways. Involuntarily, I curled one of my arms up against my wound protectively, my body now throbbing head to toe from the force of my movements. Daryl tried to get around me, but I shifted my stance, blocking him as he tried to do so.

With a frustrated roar, he got right in my face. "Get back in that bed!"

"Well, that's a bold statement," I quipped. "At least buy me a drink first."

"This ain't fuckin' funny! You're bleedin'!"

"That's happened quite a lot in the last few hours. I'm pretty fucking used to it by now!" I glared at him. "You need to back off."

"You coulda died because of this fat bastard! We were waitin' on that highway for you! It's been twenty-four fuckin' hours since I seen you! You got any idea how worried I was?!" He paused for a split second, looking over my shoulder. "Don't you fuckin' run," he suddenly yelled at Otis as he was scrambling to get his feet back under him. "You ain't gettin' far!"

"It was an accident," I shot back. My arm was still curled against my side, and I could now feel the blood seeping through the shirt. "He didn't know I was there! He was shooting at a buck, not me!"

"'Cause that makes it okay!"

"Yes it does, because he's also the reason I'm still alive! He could've left me out there, wished me good luck! Instead, he told me where his people were, that they could help me! He left his family vulnerable to a stranger they didn't even know. Because he wanted to help!" I knew I was outright yelling as well, and I should've been doing a better job at diffusing the situation, but I was agitated, in pain, and fuck was I just damned tired of it all.

"That makes him a _dumb_ fat bastard, then!"

"It makes him a good person! The world doesn't have many of those these days!" I took a breath, trying to calm myself. "I'm alive because of him, and his people! I'm not asking you to thank them…I'm asking you to understand."

As expected, he started pacing in front of me, glaring at Otis over my shoulder. But he didn't make any further movements.

I heard the front door of the house be flung open, but I didn't take my eyes off Daryl. Frantic footsteps raced through the house until skidding to a halt.

"What in God's name is happening," I heard Hershel demanded.

Not looking back at him, I said, "Making sure Otis stays alive. Mission accomplished so far." Daryl glared at me.

I could hear shuffling and one of the women gently saying, "Come on, Otis."

"Are you alright," Hershel was asking.

"Yeah," Otis responded breathlessly. "We…I think we're all good."

"Are we, Daryl," Hershel asked.

Daryl sneered at him. Seconds passed by.

Finally, Daryl shook his head and grumbled a long string of curses under his breath.

'Thank you,' I mouthed. His scowl only deepened in response.

I turned around to see Patricia and Maggie escorting Otis out of the room. He was up and walking, but they accompanied him out of worry. Hershel glowered at us, and rightfully so.

"This thing between you and Otis," he asked Daryl. "Are you gonna make your peace with it, or am I gonna have to ask you to leave my property?"

Daryl looked sharply at him. "I ain't goin' nowhere," he spat. "Maybe you oughta teach your man not to shoot people!"

"I'm sure Layla has already explained to you it was an accident."

"Yeah? And is your shitty doctor skills an accident, too? She's already bleedin' again!"

Hershel's gaze immediately went to my side. My side and my arm were once again covered in my blood.

"Lie down again," he told me as he went to the nightstand.

With a resigned sigh, I did as instructed. I could feel the stitches tugging as I put myself back in the center of the bed. I didn't have to look at the wound to know some stitches had popped. I tried to slowly lower my back to lay my head on the pillow, but realized it was too much of a strain. So, I relaxed my elbows and let my upper body flop the last couple of inches. Daryl winced at my abruptness.

Hershel had gotten out some alcohol and extra sutures from the nightstand. "Something told me we might need more of these," he said with a scolding look. "So I kept 'em close by."

I snorted. "That was wise."

Hershel looked at Daryl. "There are more rags in the kitchen under the sink. I'll need those."

Before Hershel had gotten the last words out, Daryl had already sped out of the room.

Hershel lifted the hem of the now bloodstained shirt. "I highly doubt Patricia will want this shirt back now," he mused with a frown.

"Whenever I'm well and able," I said. "I'll do a run. Clothes, rags, medical supplies, I'll get whatever I can find to replace anything you used or discarded."

"You won't be up and about for some time," he shook his head.

"Oh, ye of little faith," I smirked.

Daryl was back again, promptly setting the rags on the nightstand. "What else you need," he asked.

"I need you to give me space," Hershel replied bluntly. As if scolded, Daryl scowled at him, but walked away to go to the other side of the bed.

I had popped about a quarter of my stitches. Thankfully, though, it didn't tear that much more of my skin. Hershel worked brusquely, professionally. I didn't react much as the needle went in and out, feeling more and more drained with every passing minute. I only flinched every now and then when his fingers touched my skin.

At some point, Daryl sat himself beside me. His hand found mine, and his thumb stroking my skin was a welcomed distraction. He watched Hershel carefully, mostly with suspicion. I could tell he wasn't a fan of us being in a house full of strangers.

When Hershel was done, he put the suture kit, alcohol, and remaining clean rags in the nightstand drawer. He stopped his movements when he saw the pill bottle. He picked it up and inspected its contents.

"Not much in there," he sighed. He stood up, went to the dresser on the other side of the room, and came back with a clean shirt. "I'll give you some privacy and come back later for the dirty shirt," he said as he handed me the new one. "Try not to pop anymore stitches."

"No promises," I smirked, making Daryl roll his eyes disapprovingly.

Hershel looked at Daryl. "How about you and Otis just keep out of each other's way for now," he asked, leaving little room for argument.

Daryl scoffed loudly. "Fine by me," he grumbled.

Hershel shook his head at us, gave us one final unsure look, and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I blew out a puff of air as a neutral atmosphere finally started to return. "Jesus," I muttered through clenched teeth as I moved to sit up again.

"Lay back down," Daryl said, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

I shook my head. "I need to get rid of this shirt and put the new one on."

Daryl frowned at this, but glided his hand from shoulder to my back to support me. "Thanks," I breathed out. Once I was propped against the headboard, he slid his hand away. I started to lift up the hem of my shirt. Red tinted Daryl's face and he quickly looked away.

I wouldn't have minded if he saw me shirtless. I trusted him and knew he wouldn't do anything risqué. However, I wasn't offended that he wanted to look away to give me a sense of privacy.

I tossed the bloody shirt towards my backpack and put on the new one.

"You can look now," I muttered as I sank myself to lie back down. Everything was starting to catch up to me. Hiding from walkers on the highway, keeping Sophia from running off, tracking a deer, getting shot, running three miles, bullet chunks being yanked from my body…

To put it bluntly, I was damned tired.

"What's the group doing right now," I asked. "Setting up camp in Hershel's yard?" I snorted. "I bet Hershel's enjoying that."

Daryl shook his head. "They're still on the highway. Dale fixed the RV. They're just tryin' to turn themselves around now to get themselves here."

"Everyone's okay," I asked. "T-Dog? Sophia? Everyone?" He nodded once. "Hershel's gonna have an aneurism when they all get here."

"Why?"

"He doesn't want any people on his land."

"Then his people should figure out how to not shoot other people."

I rolled my eyes. "You now understand that it was an accident at least, right?"

He scowled, but nodded begrudgingly.

"I thought about heading for the highway, after I'd been shot," I explained. "But I doubt it would've worked in my favor. You were too far away, which meant the group was probably too far away. When Otis mentioned the farm, I knew it would be my best bet." I looked at him steadily. "I know you wanna kill Otis. If the situation was reversed and you were the one in this bed, I would, too. But these are good people, all of them. Eventually…They'll be a part of us."

Daryl scoffed and pointed at the bedroom door. "If you think I'm gonna let the trigger-happy bastard be a part of our group, then-"

"I thought you said it wasn't your group," I asked with a smirk. "Thought you said we didn't need any of 'em."

Daryl looked away, glowering at nothing in particular. I chuckled lightly under my breath, and it transformed into a long yawn. I heard Daryl say I should get some rest just as my eyes were drifting shut.


	21. Pillow Talk

The first part of my sleep consisted of a nightmare, as per usual. However, one nightmare wasn't enough, as it turned into a chain of terrifying memories. The car, the CDC, Shane. It all flashed rapidly before me. To put a shriveled cherry on top, I dreamt about getting eaten by those walkers, too.

And here I thought I'd shoved that memory on the backburner.

The walkers ate at my flesh, crunched on my bones, tore me apart with their gnarly nails and rotted teeth. I had been cornered. Couldn't get away. Had no control.

Isn't that what it always boiled down to for me, a mass amount of control that no person should ever put upon themselves? The voices in my head also tell me how exhausting I am.

They went on forever. Over and over again. The car. The CDC. Shane. The walkers. Repeat.

At some point, the endless cycle shattered on the images of the walkers, a confusing bookend. My mind became a blissful blank, a respite from my own personal hell. From then on, I expected to drift in and out as I slept, like I always did when I had a bad injury. Instead, I slept soundly. For a good long while, everything was beautifully dreamless. I was surrounded by a comforting shroud of darkness, like a midnight hike through the woods.

When I did start to wake up, the darkness was still surrounding me. Something else was as well, wrapped tightly around me. I fidgeted against it, testing it. My entire body locked up when I realized it had to be someone's arms.

Automatically, I started to twist and jerk against them, inhaling sharply as I tried to maintain my breathing. I immediately stopped when the scent of leather hit me. I sighed, relaxing against the arms that held me securely.

I blinked my eyes against the darkness, but it didn't go away. And when I heard crickets sounding, I understood why. A breeze from an opened window mingled the lovely aroma of the midnight Georgia air and Daryl's leather vest.

He had his arms around me, wrapped around my upper body, just shy of my wound. I could feel his steady breath whispering against the top of my head. I sighed deeply, content at our closeness.

"How long have I been out," I murmured.

For several seconds, I didn't hear a response from him. I thought he was probably asleep. Then, he shifted slightly. "Most of the day," he murmured.

I nodded, my forehead nearly brushing his chest in the process. His arms tightened for a second before they suddenly slackened.

"Um," he muttered, sounding slightly flustered. "You were, uh, havin' a nightmare. Thrashin' and everythin'. Couldn't wake you up for nothin'. Even tried playin' your iPod on full blast. Nothin'. This was all I could think of," he concluded quietly. His arms started to completely unwind. "Don't want you to be uncomfortable or-"

"Are you uncomfortable," I asked him calmly. His arms stopped their retreat. "'Cause I'm not."

At those words, Daryl's arms slowly wound their way back to their original position. "Ain't hurtin' you or nothin'?"

"Nah," I shook my head with a light smile.

"How you feelin'?"

I shrugged, ignoring the jolt of pain that came with that simple action. "I feel like I got hit by a train…that was hauling bricks…in a Looney Tunes cartoon. But I got a lot of sleep out of the deal, so there's that." I glanced at the window. "Do we know how everyone else is doing? If they've gotten here?"

I could feel him shaking his head. "Just been shot. Can't think of herself for more than five minutes," he muttered under his breath. "Everybody's fine," he explained. "They got here at sundown. You were right. Can tell Hershel ain't happy about it."

"Did you show the group the bullet fragments yet," I said with a smirk. "I bet T-Dog, Glenn, and Carl thought they were cool."

He shook his head. "I asked Hershel to tell the group not to see you yet."

"Why," I asked confusedly.

"'Cause they're all as quiet as stampedin' elephants," he scoffed. "Didn't want them to wake you up. You woulda never gotten back to sleep. Woulda tried to get up and do something."

"That's…fair," I conceded. "Why have Hershel tell them? Why not tell 'em yourself?"

"You just got shot. Didn't wanna leave you alone and…Just…You know, in case you needed somethin'."

I smiled. "Thank you. My nightmares, they were a real bitch this time."

I felt him rest his chin on top of my head. "'s nothin'," he murmured with a shrug.

"It's not nothing to me," I shook my head.

I wanted to shift closer, closer than we already were, but I stopped myself, not quite knowing what he would or wouln't be comfortable with.

Eventually, a question did end up coming to mind. "Did we were really not see each other for twenty-four hours? It felt shorter than that. But that isn't saying much because I originally thought the bullet removal only lasted a few minutes."

"Felt like twenty-four hours," he grunted, and tensed slightly.

"What," I asked. I wished I could see his face to get a better gauge or understanding, but couldn't from this angle.

When he spoke, it was a strained whisper. "When night came and you weren't back yet, everythin' felt slower. They were all drivin' me fuckin' crazy. Everybody kept tellin' me you were fine. Normal for you to be gone long. Glenn, T-Dog, and Dale were the only ones even a little worried, but even then…" His chin shifted against my hair as he shook his head stiffly. "Everybody kept actin' like nothin' was wrong. And every time someone said you were fine, it just made me wanna hit somethin'."

My eyebrows knitted together. "But you know it's normal for me to be gone for hours, even a whole day."

"Don't mean shit. I couldn't shake the feelin' somethin' was wrong. And then that cowgirl – Maggie rides up to us and says you got shot." Impossibly, his arms tightened more, to the point where my face was now pressed against his chest. He exhaled shakily against my hair. "Followed behind her on the motorcycle. Didn't know what the hell to expect."

I sighed, practically melting against him. I curled one of my arms awkwardly and sought out one of his hands. When I found one, I stroked the skin in what I hoped was a soothing manner. 

A few more seconds passed before Daryl calmed. He clutched my hand and spoke again. "Hershel said you ran three miles with that bullet inside you. That true?"

I nodded. "I didn't have any sutures left in my pack. Otherwise, I would've taken care of it ASAP. Running three miles to the farm was my next bet."

"Son of a bitch, Layla," he muttered, in both disapproval and astonishment.

"You once told me about how you fell on your own arrow and had to walk all the way back to the farm."

"Pfft," he scoffed, and I could almost picture him rolling his eyes. "I ain't stupid enough to fall on my own damn arrows."

"Hey, I'm just repeating what you said," I chuckled. "Although, you were looking for Sophia at the time. So, hopefully that doesn't happen this time."

"Thanks to you."

"Thanks to me," I sighed with uncertainty. I still wasn't thrilled about all of the things that had changed as a result of me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad some people are safe and alive, but I didn't know what this meant for the future. Not just mine, but everyone else's. Daryl had told me so much over the years, but never really in order of when and how they happened. I knew some things that were probably going to happen soon…

I shook my head rapidly, not quite yet having the emotional energy to even begin thinking hard on all of that.

"Hey," I heard him murmur. "Y'alright?"

"Just trying not to get lost in my own head, I guess."

"Anythin' I can do?"

I pursed my lips. "Us talking has been a welcomed distraction from my own thoughts…" I grimaced. "And this damned hole in my side. I don't wanna keep you from getting sleep, though."

He shrugged. "It don't matter to me. 'Sides, you're the one who should be sleepin'."

I rolled my eyes lightly at that. "Hmm, well," I hummed. "Do you have any questions…about what happened today?"

"Naw," he said. "It all makes sense. Don't mean I like any of it," he grumbled. "But I get it."

"You're not gonna kill Otis, right?"

He muttered something noncommittal against my hair. I snorted, and knew that was the only answer I would get. He wasn't exuding any tension, so I let it go.

"I do got one question, though. Did you say you had to cut off your own arm?"

"My first go-round," I nodded. "I had to amputate it."

"Why?"

"Man, where to start with this story," I frowned. I blew out a puff of air. "You and I end up killing this guy named Negan. Real evil bastard. Some of his followers – they called themselves Saviors – felt freed after his death, so they joined our people. Others splintered into their own groups. One group was looking for revenge. I was out on a hunting trip by myself, was gonna come back in about three days. Well…Three turned to seven." As I talked, my voice became more and more devoid of emotion. Also, as I talked, Daryl's arms steadily became tenser and tenser around me.

"On the second day of the trip, they jumped me, dragged me into a cellar. They tortured me for a while," I said, while unconvincingly trying to shrug it off. "They started taking bets on when I would die. Only…I refused to die, and it started to piss 'em off. At some point, they all held me down, and forced a walker to bite my arm."

I shook my head slowly with a grimace. The week that it happened had a culmination of so many other different factors that went along with it. I was in a bad state of mind before I had been jumped, and I was in an even worse state during the aftermath. It took me far too long to pick up the pieces, even with Daryl's support.

Thinking it was best, I skipped ahead a little. "Long story short, I got away, amputated my arm, built a fire to cauterize it, and came back home after I had the energy." I grimaced at the word 'home', not liking that I just used it in association with Alexandria.

Daryl was as still as a statue, rigid and unmoving. I wasn't even sure if he was breathing or not.

"If it makes you feel any better," I tried, attempting to sound nonchalant. "They all died."

When he did move, the tension hadn't left, but at least he was responding. "Seven fuckin' days," he muttered, voice strained. "And nobody went lookin' for you? _I_ didn't go lookin' for you?!"

I shook my head. "You think me disappearing for only a single day is worrisome? Hell, I would sometimes leave the group for days on end to go on extensive runs or hunts. You would come with me most of the time, though. And even when you didn't, we both got into the habit of telling each other where we were going and when we'd be back. It was also normal for me to be gone longer because I had a wayward habit of going on little extra side quests. No one went looking for me because you all simply thought I got delayed."

I snorted, really trying to make light of it for my own sanity. "If anything good came out of that cellar bullshit is that I taught myself how to shoot my longbow one-handed. So, that's a positive."

"Ain't funny," he grumbled. "I can't even imagine you comin' back to me like that."

"You think Otis made you mad," I muttered. "Man, you wanted to rain down hell on those Saviors. Never seen you that angry before."

"Damn straight," he growled. "Were they the same bastards that wanted to gut you like a deer? That's what you also said, right?"

"Hoo, boy," I chuckled and shifted back to look at his face. "That story is just as fun."

I told him about a long scar I had on my stomach. It was a wild story from start to finish. It was just as grim as the cellar story, but more on the…quirky side. After telling him about that scar, he asked about a couple of my others. I showed them to him as I went, regaling each story that came with them.

He showed me a few of his own, ones that he mostly got from breaking up Merle's altercations, one or two from motorcycle wrecks, and a couple more from hiking incidents. Every now and then, he stumbled upon one he wasn't too proud of. In those moments, I neither encouraged him nor told him he could stop if he wanted to. Sometimes he moved onto something else, but most of the time, after pausing to consider things, he'd continue with the story. I'd heard all of these stories before, of course, but I stilled listened with genuine interest. He was talking freely and comfortably about past events that happened to him, sharing pieces of himself.

"And, you, um," he muttered apprehensively at some point. "You…know about my back."

"Yes," I nodded. "You've shown me them before. Like I said, I would resurrect your father just to kill him myself."

He nodded stiffly. He shifted his arms around me to put his chin back on my head again. "You…Do you, uh, wanna see 'em?"

Still holding hands, I gave his a secure squeeze. "Only if you want to. I could never ask that of you, Daryl."

"You seen 'em before," he grumbled. "You ain't shy about your scars."

"And you aren't shy about _most_ of yours," I remarked. "That doesn't mean you need to show all of 'em to me, even if I have seen 'em all before. And if you decided you never wanted to show me your back, then that's okay."

His chin shifted, probably flexing his jaw thoughtfully. After several long seconds, I felt him nod once. He flexed his arms around me, as if working out the rest of the tension, but didn't unwind them.

I had no idea how long he'd been holding me now. I sighed against his chest, thoroughly content. We laid in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's company.

If you had told me at the beginning of my first go-round of the apocalypse that I would ever be this physically close to someone, I would've called you insane. After first meeting Daryl, it took months until I was finally okay with him touching me. Excluding sex, of course, the physical aspect of our relationship only grew stronger from then on. It soon became normal for us to hold hands, lean up against each other, or get tangled up in our sleep. Kissing eventually evolved from this as well. All because Daryl had the patience of a goddamn saint.

Now it was my turn to be patient. Ever since this Daryl had told me he wanted something more, I tried to leave everything up to him. Any touches between the two of us were to be initiated by him. Eventually, I had started to slowly initiate hand-holding myself, which he had yet to object to. And now here we were, literally wrapped up in each other.

I didn't know what prompted this. He said it was because I had a nightmare, but it felt like there was more to it than that. Not that I was complaining, mind. I wanted to ask, but I also didn't want to jinx it and spook him. Instead, I simply soaked our proximity in.

Every now and then, he adjusted his arms. I was anticipating him moving away to give himself some space, but it never came. I still kept my hand in one of his, kept brushing my thumb idly over the back of it. Occasionally, I'd feel the fingers of his other hand stroking over an inch or two of my spine, almost experimentally. However, he mostly kept his arms in place, satisfied enough with just doing that.

I started to drift in and out, as originally expected. Not completely awake, not completely asleep. I probably wasn't going to completely fall back asleep until later the next day, feeling more rested than I have been in a long time. Normally, I would've been awake now, up and ready to do some night hiking, hunting, or scouting. The wound wasn't what was keeping me in bed right now. This lazy dozing against the man I love was just what the doctor ordered.

I didn't feel his position change for a very long time. When it did, he started pulling back slowly. I was still going in and out of sleep, and I once again expected him pull away. That was fine, he probably wanted his space back. What woke me up completely was feeling his forehead nudge against mine. Slowly, eventually, our noses were touching as well. I didn't have to open my eyes to know there was deliberate hesitancy in his movements. Although, whether he was being hesitant for his own sake or mine, I didn't know.

I took a deep breath, relaxed breath, but didn't react further, still didn't open my eyes yet. I let myself feel him at his own pace. However, when he moved again, I couldn't help the thrilled shiver that raced up my spine.

In the most fleeting of touches, his lips were brushing my own. It wasn't quite a kiss, there was no pressure applied. I felt no urgency or apprehension from him, though there was most definitely shyness.

Just a touch, that's all it was.

He didn't rush himself, content to thoroughly take his time.

"Layla," he murmured softly against my lips. "You awake?"

"Mhm," I murmured back, and was now unable to keep a tiny grin at bay.

"Mm," was his lazy response, which confirmed how comfortable he was with this level of intimacy. It made me happy to know that he was this relaxed.

The darkness in the room began to lighten as the early morning hours neared. The birds outside the window were the ones to welcome the sunrise. Voices were also chiming in. It was the group. They were greeting 'good morning' to each other, clanging cutler together as they ate breakfast, and giving each other chore instructions.

I didn't hear any of it.

His mouth was still over mine, this time with a gentle, deliberate pressure that made my heart race wildly. He pulled back after a short second, uncertain. I couldn't help but lick my lips and let my smile widen even more.

As if that was the response he was waiting for, his lips were on mine again, with that same gentleness and with more confidence. Shifting slightly, daring myself, I applied the same pressure back. He sighed contentedly through his nose. His fingers were tracing my spine again, this time in longer strokes.

When he pulled back again, I opened my eyes. His eyes were tired, but bright, and he was wearing that shy smile that I always found endearing. I smiled back, a wide blissful grin that took up my entire face. Slowly, I took my hand out of his to drape my arm around his neck.

He responded by bumping his forehead against mine again. "Was, um, was it okay," he asked quietly, voice laced with uncertainty as his smile slipped.

"Daryl," I whispered. "It was more than okay."

"Yeah," he asked, smile slowly returning.

"Yes," I said firmly.

The morning sun was shining brightly through the room now. I wanted to tell Daryl we should get up and do something, like reconvene with the group. However, neither of us wanted to move anytime soon, far too happy in our own little world.


	22. Can't Change Everything

Hershel released the hem of my shirt. "Everything looks good," he said. "So long as you take it easy for a while, you shouldn't have any problems."

Daryl huffed as he came back into the room. "You don't know Layla. She don't know the meanin' of 'take it easy'," he said. He laid a bundle of cordage next to my longbow. "It ain't sinew, but it's better than nothin'," he said as he sat beside me on the bed.

"Nice," I smiled my thanks.

Daryl had left to see if he had any extra bowstring in the saddlebags. I preferred deer sinew over something that was store-bought. Synthetics were stronger, but sinew was lighter and, in my opinion, more easily adjustable. However, the string Daryl just found was the only extra one on hand, so it would have to do.

"Unfortunately, we don't have any painkillers left, and you're almost out of antibiotics," Hershel continued as he stood up. "We're currently looking for some."

I shrugged. "Don't sweat it. It's not infected, and it's not the first time I've been shot."

"Otis told me you said that. Were you in the armed forces?"

"No. I've just been unlucky throughout the years."

He hummed thoughtfully as he left the room.

I looked at Daryl. "Why does everyone keep trying to guess what I did before all this?"

He shrugged. "People don't know how to keep their noses outa other people's business."

"I guess," I muttered. Maybe it was about time I told everyone what I used to do. They all trusted me now – er, most of them – and it would get everyone to stop hammering me with questions. It was just finding the best time to bring it up.

I slid my feet out from under the covers and stood up as smoothly as possible without popping another stitch. Daryl instantly got to his feet when he saw me do this.

"Don't strain yourself," he said. "Whatever you want, I'll get it."

"What I want," I said as I grabbed the bullet fragments and antibiotics from the nightstand. "is some fresh air."

His eyes narrowed, knowing where this was going. "The window's wide open."

"I'm sick of staring at these walls."

"You only been in here for a day or so."

"Fresh air," I repeated calmly. "That's all. Just to relieve the boredom. I'm not an idiot. It's a big wound. I know if I do anything physical I'll just pop the stitches again."

His eyes narrowed even further. "So, you're gonna take it easy?"

"As much as my sanity will allow," I smirked as I started walking out of the room.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he grumbled as he followed.

It was a short walk from the bedroom to the front door, and I was already beginning to feel tired, sore, and a little agitated. Still, I needed to get out for a while. I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch.

It was a bright sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. The Greene's were working around the farm, going about their daily routine. The group was set up a couple dozen yards away, with their own big campsite, peacefully going about their morning chores as well. Everyone went at their own pace, without urgency. You wouldn't have guessed that we were all in the process of fighting for survival.

Daryl stood beside me, looking out at the farm and taking it in as well. He had his crossbow slung over his shoulder, and was holding my knife in his hand. He held it out for me.

I took it and tucked it into my belt. "We don't need to cling so tightly to our weapons here," I said. "So long as no one fires a gun on the property to attract walkers."

"Can't be this quiet for long."

"No, it won't be." We started down the porch steps. "But for now it is."

We walked over to the group. Between the hot sun and the stitches in my side, my body was trying to convince me that I'd just ran the three miles all over again. Every step felt like it was straining against the sutures, and it was making me feel fatigued. I shook my head in an attempt to shake it off. Come on, Layla, don't be such a pussy.

Not all of the group was currently around the campsite. Glenn was on top of the RV, Dale was under the hood tinkering, T-Dog was reaching under tents to toss away any extra rocks, and Lori was on dishes duty.

"Did you even get shot," T-Dog hollered with a wide smile as we approached. "'Cause you're already up and walkin'!"

"Let's not make a big deal out of it, okay," I half-smirked.

"How can't we," Glenn exclaimed from where he was, a smile on his face as well. "This chick rides up to us like Zorro on a horse and tells us you've been shot, and you don't want us to make a big deal?!"

"How are you even up and about," Lori asked with wide eyes as she let the dishes drop back into the bucket.

"She don't have no off switch, that's how," Daryl muttered.

I rolled my eyes lightly. Let's be fair, though, he wasn't wrong. "I came out here to touch base on how everyone was doing." I looked at T-Dog and passed him the antibiotics. "And to give you the rest of these."

"Won't you need these," he asked.

I shook my head. "I shouldn't. I've already got some in my system."

He stared at me cynically. "You did get shot, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I got shot," I chuckled. "But you got scratched by a dirty car. I'd say you might need more antibiotics than me." I honestly didn't know which wound was more of a priority, but I wasn't about to let anyone die of an infection due to me hoarding antibiotics.

"What else you got there," Dale asked curiously as he wiped his hands off on a rag.

I held the bag up.

"What are those," Lori asked as she stood up to get a closer look.

"The bullet," I said. "It fragmented when it entered my body. I thought some of you guys might find it cool."

T-Dog snatched the bag out of my hands. "That is sick!"

"Lemme see," Glenn hollered. T-Dog spun around to go to the RV.

Lori looked at me with concern. She paused to put a hand over her mouth, as if struggling to find words. "When Rick got shot," she said slowly. "The bullet was intact. The injury wasn't nearly as big as yours, and he fell into a coma and…" She kept glancing at my side. "And you're acting like it didn't even happen."

I winced when I detected a hint of bitterness in her words. Although, I didn't think it was her intention to come across that way. "It's like Daryl said," I chuckled to try and lighten the mood. "I don't have an off switch."

We watched as T-Dog tossed the bag up to Glenn.

Lori sighed heavily after a moment. "Anyway," she continued. "We've all been worried."

Daryl scoffed from where he was leaning against a tree. "Y'all weren't worried when she didn't show up back to the highway," he muttered, glaring harshly into the distance.

Lori ignored him. "Carol especially."

"Why her," I asked.

"You were the one who saved her daughter's life. She's out with the kids right now, helping with the chickens. She's trying to figure out how she can repay you."

I scowled. "She has to know that's not necessary. Sophia's safe. Everyone's safe. We can move on."

Dale shook his head. "We all know that's not how Carol works. She's very emotional. She just wants to thank you somehow."

I shook my head firmly. "Please tell her she doesn't have to do a damn thing." I paused. "Obviously, you guys'll sound more polite than that."

Glenn had passed the fragments back to T-Dog.

"Everyone's doing okay, though, it looks like," I asked.

Lori nodded. "Much better, now that we're here. This has to be one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen."

"Where is everyone else?"

"Everywhere, kind of," Dale said. "Off scouting, off on a run, Andrea's inside the RV helping clean guns," he ended that sentence on a mutter, clearly not thrilled about something.

I flexed my jaw. "What about Ed?"

"Not much to say," Dale shrugged. "He's sticking to his family's tent, quiet as a mouse."

I shook my head slowly at his words. Ed had been forcing himself to behave since the quarry attack, to the point where it's like he wasn't even here. Between Shane and I handing his ass to him on different occasions, it kind of made sense. However, it still meant that he was unpredictable.

Seeing the contemplation written all over my face, Dale said, "It is what it is. At least he's not stirring the pot like he used to."

"It's been beneficial for Carol and Sophia, too," Lori added. "Ed hasn't been barking orders at them left and right. They've been a little more independent. I don't think we need to worry about Ed right now."

"I suppose," I muttered. It was definitely a plus that Ed was leaving his family alone. I didn't think anyone was clueless as to Ed's abuse towards them. It just sucked that it took multiple altercations for Ed to finally get the message of 'Stop fucking with people!'.

"Speaking of Sophia," I said as T-Dog came back over to us and handed me the fragments. "I bet her and Carl would think this was cool." I jostled the bag as I handed it to Lori.

Lori grimaced at the fragments. Something in her eyes flashed, like a mixture of stubbornness and…fear. "I'd…appreciate it if you didn't show those to the kids." On that note, she abruptly turned, picked up the bucket full of dishes, and walked away from us.

"She can't shelter Carl forever," I said to no one in particular.

"It's not just that," Dale noted. "Keep in mind, her husband had gotten shot and nearly died. I imagine the trauma's still there."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I opted for a respectful but slightly awkward silence.

"You sure you won't need these," T-Dog asked as he took out the pill bottle. "I still got some left."

"I'm sure."

"Hershel was saying otherwise," Rick said as came up to us to enter the conversation. "We got people out looking for extra antibiotics right now." He looked me up and down skeptically. "Hershel said the procedure lasted for hours. We didn't expect you to be up and about already. You shouldn't push yourself."

"I know my own limits," I said, and, honestly, I was about ready to reach it. I hated that I was already feeling exhausted when I hadn't done anything productive.

Rick nodded once. "How's the wound?"

"It'll heal."

"Hershel says you're almost out of antibiotics."

"I've taken some already and given the rest to T. It should be enough for him, at least."

"We shouldn't have to worry about meds in general," Dale added. "So long as Otis and Shane are successful."

I let the bullet fragments slip out of my hand and fall to the ground.

"…What do you mean," I asked slowly, hoping that I didn't hear that right.

"We're outa painkillers and runnin' outa antibiotics," Rick explained, unaware of how still I had become. "Otis and Shane went on a run to find more."

"Shouldn't they be back by now," T-Dog mused with a slight frown.

At those words, I buried my face in my hands with a groan.

"They'll be fine," Rick said. "They can handle it."

"Please tell me they didn't go to that FEMA shelter Hershel mentioned," I hissed against my palms.

"It's the most sure-fire place for medical supplies-"

I dropped my hands. "All for some damned pills!"

At my outburst they all stared at me.

"It's more than that," Rick said, holding up a hand in a really shitty effort to calm me. "Hershel ended up using a lot of his medical supplies on you. There's a pharmacy near here, but Maggie didn't think it'd have what he'd need to replenish. The meds, IV bags, needles, other things. Hershel was running low on stuff before Otis had shot you. Otis volunteered to go on your behalf. And I had Shane go with him as backup."

"Son of a bitch," I snapped so loudly it echoed over the field. "And you just let them?!"

"Otis was beside himself," Dale said, eyebrows scrunched, not understanding why I was freaking out. "He felt like he owed you."

"Maggie said that place was overrun!"

"They're hopin' it's better now," Rick said. "They'll be lookin' out for each other. Otis knows the area and what to look for, and Shane can keep his path clear. Otis was more than ready to go alone, but I convinced Shane to go with him." He glanced at all of us. "Somethin's delaying them. They should've been back now, but Shane works best under pressure. He'll pull somethin' off and they'll be back here in no time."

"Son of a god damn…" I snarled. I shook my head while staring at the ground and grinding my teeth together, resisting the urge to pace.

"You okay, Layla," I heard someone ask. It could've been Glenn, T-Dog, Rick, whoever, but I didn't acknowledge them.

I spun on my heel and all but jogged back to the farmhouse. I was really pushing it, doing long and quick strides that stretched and yanked at my sutures. But I couldn't stop.

I had to do something, before it was too late.

"Layla," I vaguely heard Daryl saying. "Dammit, Layla, slow down!"

I didn't stop, not until I was up the porch steps, zipping through the foyer, and entering the bedroom. I scooped my backpack off the floor and tossed it on the bed, just to get it out of the way for now. I gripped my bow and gathered up the bowstring. I was in the process of tying one end of the string to my bow when I felt Daryl's hands on my shoulders.

He didn't grip or pull, but he had to push so that I would spin to face him. "You wanna tell me what the hell's goin' on," he asked in utter confusion. "You look like you saw a ghost back there. The hell you doin'?"

Holding the bow and string in one hand, I ducked under his arm and went around him to close the bedroom door and window. Facing him again, I whispered, "Shane's gonna kill Otis."

He blinked in astonishment. "Why?"

"Carl was supposed to get shot, not me. Shane and Otis end up going on a run for surgery supplies, only Otis didn't make it back. Shane made up some lie, but he was the one who killed him, to save himself and get the supplies back for Carl." I talked in a rush as I set to work applying the bowstring.

"You sure?"

I stopped what I was doing to give him a dumb look.

He nodded. "Right, yeah, stupid question."

"That supply run," I sighed. "I didn't think that would have to happen this time with how well the procedure went for me."

I heard Daryl shift his feet. "Why d'you need your bow?"

"'Cause I'm not gonna let Shane kill him."

As soon as the words left my mouth, the bow was snatched right out of my hands. Exhaling knowingly, I looked Daryl in the eye. To say he was angry couldn't even begin to cover it. "You fuckin' kidding me, Layla," he snapped harshly.

"I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Otis feels obligated to get supplies. I'll be damned if I-"

"It ain't your fuckin' fault you got shot! I say good riddance to that bastard!"

"Well, I _can't_ say that. And keep your voice down, we don't want the whole farm hearing us. Give me my bow back."

"You ain't goin' nowhere," he snarled, stepping closer to get in my face.

I glared at him and clenched my teeth. "Oh, if you think-"

"You almost popped your stitches runnin' back to this room. What happens when you go to that FEMA place and all your stitches pop and you bleed out?! You ain't gonna be helpin' no one then!"

I snarled at the top of lungs and started pacing the room. I raked my fingers through my hair and down my face. 

I hated that Daryl was right. I hated that I had been shot. I hated that a short jog back to the farm house was now making my side burn again.

I snatched my backpack off the bed and tossed it back to where it was previously positioned against the wall. "Go ahead and set my bow there, too," I muttered as I continued pacing.

I was trying to think of what I could do from the farm, anything that could give Otis a better chance of survival. However, anything I could think of required long distance communication. Technology was nonexistent now. I rubbed my fingers against my eyes. I felt useless.

"You got a map in your bag," Daryl suddenly asked in a strangely collected voice.

I shook my head. "Dale or Rick might have one. Why?"

"I'ma see if I can't find that FEMA shelter."

I ceased pacing and dropped my hands to look at him. The rage was gone from his face, replaced with steady determination.

"Why," I asked. "You don't even like Otis?"

He scowled a little. "You won't settle until you know this guy's alright. 'Sides, no man should die 'cause they been double-crossed. Motorcycle should take me there pretty quick. I'll make sure Shane don't try shit."

I smiled at him, shaking my head. "I appreciate that. I really do. But I won't have you do that." I ran my hand over my face again. "I can't have you go. Not if Shane tries something with you, too."

"I'm a grown-ass man, Layla."

"And Shane's a violent cop." As soon as I said that, realization hit me that I never told Daryl what happened at the CDC. Shit. I shook my head rapidly. Now was not the time. "Anyway, I…I don't know what the solution is here. I wanna go to that FEMA shelter, and now you wanna go. And I just-" The sound of a car rolling over the driveway cut me off. "Shit," I hissed as we went over to the window.

A blue truck was pulling up to the house. I squinted. Shane was in the driver's seat, but that was it.

…No Otis.

"Shit," I repeated in a harsh, defeated tone.

Pushing away from the window, I rushed out of the house. By the time I got down the front porch steps, Rick was already talking to him. Shane was out of the truck, in the process of getting supplies out of the bed. He was covered head to toe in dirt and walker grime, and he was favoring one of his legs.

"We got everythin' on Hershel's list," Shane said, responding to something Rick had just asked. Shane's voice was low and zapped of energy.

Rick glanced around. "And Otis?"

Shane was shaking his head. "No…No…" He whispered a few times. "They kept blockin' us, man," he began to explain in a quivering voice.

My fists clenched at my sides until I felt my nails digging into my palms. I stood there, listening to the bullshit spewing from Shane's mouth.

"At every turn...We had nothin' left. We were down…to ten rounds. Then, he said-he said he'd cover me, I-I-I should keep goin'. So that's what I did, I just…I kept goin', but I…" He paced a little. "I looked back and he… He just…I tried-"

I didn't hear anything else him or anyone was saying. I spun around and walked away, my usually quiet feet stamping so hard against the ground it made my ears ring. I ignored the footsteps that followed me, I ignored his voice saying my name. However, I couldn't ignore him forever. As I rounded the house, going nowhere in particular, Daryl sped up his pace until he was able to get in front of me. I went to step around him, but he blocked me.

"Look at me," he coaxed firmly. With a snarl curling back my lips, I did so. He was staring directly into my eyes, silently making sure I didn't look away. "This ain't on you."

"Then why does it fuckin' feel like it," I snapped.

"You weren't the one who killed Otis."

"I might as well have," I spat.

"I ain't lettin' you carry this. You didn't ask to get shot. You didn't ask for them to go on that run. You don't gotta feel responsible for this shit. This. Ain't. On. You." He punctuated as he got closer to my face. He shook his head and said, "Shit happens. Ain't nothin' you can do now."

I stared in the direction of the driveway. I didn't care what Daryl just said. Nothing was going to get rid of the nausea clawing at my insides. However, I knew what happened. I may have caused all of it, but I knew who ended it.

"You're right," I nodded. "This isn't all on me. Shane's the one who killed him."

"None of it's on you," he said firmly. He glanced towards the driveway, then back to me. "What're you thinkin' right now?"

I shook my head stiffly. "When it comes to Shane… Unless me or you do something out of self-defense, there's nothing we can do about him."

Daryl scoffed. "Bullshit. We talk to Rick."

"And tell him what, that he killed Otis? What about proof? That I'm from the future?" I scoffed. "That'll get us nowhere. On top of it all, Rick and Shane are like this." I crossed my fingers. Then, I let my hand swing back to my side.

"We can't just do nothin'. He's got no problem killin' someone to save his own ass. Means he's a danger to everyone here."

"Yep," I agreed shortly. "And there's not a damn thing we can do about it right now."


	23. Speech

Hershel's tone was warm as he read verses from the Bible, before eventually going into a speech of his own. The sun was shining through the trees, and the fields and property around us were tranquil. The only thing quietly breaking the silence were Hershel's voice and the occasional stone being placed on Otis's cairn. Given that there was no body, this type of memorial was the next best thing.

The entire Greene family had tears in their eyes and were leaning against one another for support. The group was looking at the cairn or had their heads bowed, giving each other distance while silently supporting the Greene's. They all knew that him shooting me was an accident. So even though no one shed a tear for the Greene's, they were all respectfully quiet.

I was staring at the ground, keeping my gaze averted from anyone else's, especially Shane's. None of this was supposed to happen, not this time around.

"He died as he lived," Hershel finished. "In grace." He paused to let his words sink in with everyone.

"Layla," Hershel said. "On behalf of my family, I thank you for having enough strength to not only stand out here with us in your current condition, but to also have enough strength and humanity to forgive Otis. You had every right not to."

"No, I did not," I replied flatly, still staring at the ground. "It was one big accident that no one could've predicted. Forgiving him was easy." Without looking at anyone, I took a stone from the wheelbarrow and placed it on the cairn. "None of this should've happened," I muttered as I let myself look at the Greene family. They looked back at me with such sadness in their eyes. "I am so…so sorry it did." I went back to where I was originally standing. Was I apologizing for myself? For Shane? I wasn't sure. But it felt like the right thing – no, the _only_ thing to say.

"Thank you," Patricia, who I found out was Otis's wife, murmured in a quivering voice.

"It certainly wasn't your fault," Hershel said. I immediately looked away, clenching my fists and glaring daggers into the earth.

I felt Daryl's shoulder nudge mine. I shied a couple inches away, undeserving of feeling acknowledged, much less comforted. I heard him sigh a puff of air through his nose, and then he was brushing his shoulder against mine once more. Glenn was standing on my other side, so if I moved away again, I'd bump right into him. You clever son of a…With an irritated sigh that was directed towards myself, I let myself lean against Daryl.

"Shane," Hershel asked. "Will you speak for Otis?"

I struggled to hold back a growl.

"Not good at it," Shane mumbled. "'m sorry."

"You were the last one with him," Patricia said around her tears. "You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear…I need to know his death had meaning."

I could hear Shane shifting from foot to foot, deliberating. Then, he started.

"We were about done," he said. "Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limpin'. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up." I narrowed my eyes. Even when lying about a dead man performing a heroic act, the first thing he talked about was himself.

"'We gotta get these meds back. I owe it to Layla. I owe her.'…See, that's what he said…Over and over."

I wouldn't be surprised if my teeth were audibly grinding together as I continued to stare at the ground.

"He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead. 'Run,' he said. He said, 'I-I'll take the rear, I'll cover you.' And when I looked back…"

The air was heavy with silence.

Then, I could hear Shane limping across the grass, and then the metallic shifting of the wheelbarrow as he picked up a stone.

"If not for Otis," Shane concluded. "I'da never made it out alive. We woulda never gotten those meds, those supplies back here for Hershel and his people. If not for Otis…" He paused. I completely froze up at what he said next, and I knew I was the only one who could hear the bite in his voice. "We woulda never got those antibiotics back to Layla. If any death ever had meaning…It was his." The stone knocked against the others as it was placed.

"Thank you," I heard Patricia mutter gratefully to Shane.

We all gradually dispersed, until Patricia and Hershel were the only ones left by the memorial. Daryl and I were walking back to the farmhouse. I was going to get my stuff out of the bedroom and bring it to Daryl's tent so I wouldn't have to stare at those walls anymore.

My peripheral vision caught movement. I looked to see that Shane was heading off to the woods on the other side of the farmhouse, shoulders hunched as he distraughtly ran a hand over his head and face. He was alone.

I stopped, keeping my eyes on him. After many seconds, I looked at Daryl. He was staring at me, trying to figure out what I was up to.

"Okay," I nodded once to myself. "I'm gonna go into the lion's den again." Daryl shot a glare at Shane. "Alone," I added.

He scowled at that. "I can follow close by," he offered. "He won't see me."

"And what if he does," I said. "He's got a beef with me. He has for a while now. I'm not gonna let him direct any of that on anyone else, not if I can help it. I'll be damned if I let you get caught in any crossfire."

He glanced briefly at my side where the bullet wound was.

"He won't try anything," I said. "Not this close to the farm. I know how to handle assholes like him."

Daryl looked away, glaring in Shane's direction once more. Then, he started taking his pistol out.

"I have my knife on me," I shook my head as he tried to give it to me.

He ignored my words, grasping my wrist and putting the gun in my hand. "If you ain't back at our tent in twenty minutes," he said. "I'm puttin' an arrow in him. Don't matter if he's done somethin' or not."

I sighed, but stashed the gun in the waistband of my jeans, and let my shirt conceal it. "I'll be fine."

He nodded tensely. "You call for me if shit hits the fan," he said as he walked passed me.

\-------

At a fast pace, one that my angry and burning bullet wound would allow, I silently moved in an arc through the woods in order to intercept him. Finally, Shane came into view. I stepped out to block his path. He froze. When he saw it was me, a deep frown set on his face.

"Lying is not a good color on you," I said bluntly.

There was a slight pause. Then, he scoffed. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

"You came back without Otis. With a half-assed story that you can't even finish."

He looked away, as if to appear tired and ashamed. "Maybe it sounded half-assed 'cause of how fast everythin' went." He snapped his gaze to stare at me. "You weren't there, Layla. You don't know how it all went," he finished his words in a quiet tone.

"But you know that I'm not stupid."

"Look," he said quickly. His shame lifted, making way for irritation. "We got the medicine for you. Hell, that entire run was for you. What more d'you want?"

I ignored the verbal jabbing. "I want you to get something straight," I replied calmly. "You see, I could demand that you go to Rick, go to the group, tell 'em what really happened. But let's face it, you're too much of a control freak to ever waste a breath doing so."

As I talked, he crossed his arms and straightened his spine defensively, rising to his full, intimidating height. I barely gave the action a second thought. We maintained unwavering eye contact, daring the other to look away.

"Fine, though. Whatever," I continued without pause. "It is what it is." I took a step forward, almost invading his personal space. My voice dropped. "But if I think, for even a second, that you're gonna threaten anyone else's life...You will have me to deal with."

Shane narrowed his eyes. His lips parted slightly to bear his teeth. "You threatenin' me again," he whispered.

"That depends," I shrugged. "You gonna hurt anyone else?"

He chuckled, a sound so humorless it was almost vile. He glanced away. And I could tell by his proud body language that he would never admit that he was the first to blink.

With a shake of his head, he looked at me again. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? One minute you're stayin' outa shit. The next you're gettin' knee-deep in it."

It was his turn to step forward, until he was inches from my face. I allowed my fists to clench at my sides, not only as a silent threat, but also to mitigate my anxiety at the sheer closeness. "Get your head outa your ass, Layla," he snapped, his spit landing on my skin. "I haven't hurt anyone. But if you come at me like this again, accusin' me of shit…How do you think you're gonna end up?"

"With me knocking your ass to the ground," I replied without pause, without expression.

I backed up and didn't turn around until I was a good distance away. I began hiking back to the farmhouse. However, before I got out of ear shot, I could hear Shane getting the final word.

"Do you remember when Ed told you to watch yourself," he was saying, his voice echoing through the woods. "'Cause I do."

\-------

After not finding my stuff at the farmhouse, I went to find Daryl's tent. I expected him to want to set it up at least some ways from the group. Instead, it was within the cluster of everyone else's tents. I smiled at that, glad that he was trying.

The area surrounding the tents was devoid of people. Everyone else was probably off doing their own thing, letting emotions sink in. The only one around was Daryl. He was standing under the shade of a tree near his tent, chewing at a thumbnail, staring in the direction I had disappeared in to talk to Shane.

"Here's your gun back," I said, making him immediately turn his head in my direction.

He walked towards me and took the pistol back. He looked me up and down as he stashed it away.

"I'm fine," I affirmed. "Nothing happened. Did you put all my stuff in the tent?" He nodded. "Thanks."

I opened up the tent and walked inside. Grabbing my backpack, I slowly sank down onto the floor. I hissed through my teeth as pain shot up my side.

"Maybe you oughta go to back to the farmhouse," Daryl suggested as he closed the tent flap behind him. He sat down across from me. "Easier to get into a bed than a cot or a sleepin' bag."

"I already feel like I've done this family an injustice," I said in a deadpanned voice as I looked through my belongings. "Giving them that room back and allowing them privacy after what just happened is the only thing I can give 'em right now.

"You ain't done nothin'," he grumbled stubbornly. "You only got shot three days ago. When Hershel saw me takin' your stuff, it confused him. Even he thinks you should still be in that bed."

I shrugged.

"What're you lookin' for?"

"I thought I had a couple granola bars left," I sighed. "I was gonna eat that for dinner and then get some sleep."

Daryl stood up. "I'll go find somethin'. I'm hungry, too." He dug around in his pocket before heading out. He tried passing the object to me. "Here's some more antibiotics. You haven't taken one in a while."

I winced. "I…There's no infection, so…Anyway, T-Dog probably needs those more than me."

"Shane brought more than enough back." He tossed the bottle onto my lap before he walked out.

With a harsh grimace, I chucked the bottle away, wanting nothing to do with it. I leaned my back against the wall of the tent, and I could feel whatever energy I had left starting to dissipate. Emotionally and physically, I was ready to call it a day.

Then, my bow caught my eye. I scooted to the corner, grabbed it, and set it on my lap. Taking hold of my backpack once more, I brought out the bowstring Daryl had found.

"And…here we go," I muttered, encouraging myself to have the momentum to stand back up. I let out a pained gasp as I did so. I had to, though. I needed my bow for hunting, or in case of any walkers. The way I use to set the tension of my bow required me to be standing.

I tied the string to one end of the bow. Putting the bow behind and slightly under one of my knees, I bent the bow to make it curve. "Shit," I spat out, as pain began shooting through my body. Swiftly, I brought the string up to the other end, secured it, and let go.

The bow nearly slipped from my hand as I breathed raggedly from exertion. I quickly lifted the hem of my shirt, and sighed in relief when I saw that the stitches were still intact. I inspected my bow and the string with a half-frown. The tension on the string was just ever so slightly looser than what I'd normally have it at, but it would do for now. If I forced my body to set the tension any further, I knew the stitches would pop again.

After I trimmed the excess string off, I leaned it in the corner next to my backpack. I was sitting back down as Daryl was coming back in. He passed me one of the two plates he had.

"Leftover eggs from lunch," he said as he sat down. On my plate were the eggs, as well as a package of chocolate chip cookies. "Carol found those cookies in a glove compartment on the highway."

"She oughta give these to the kids," I said, setting the cookies aside.

"She was gonna," he said. "Wanted you to have 'em instead." He smirked. "She said she ain't takin' 'em back, so you best eat 'em."

I snorted. "Fine. Who am I to let junk food go to waste? But only if you'll share 'em with me."

We ate in silence, both because it was comfortable and because I was just about ready to pass out. When Daryl was done eating, he shifted to lean further back to get comfortable. He stopped, a confused grimace on his face. He reached behind himself, and brought the pill bottle into view.

"You took one of these, right," he asked.

I shook my head stiffly. "Daryl, I-I can't. Just…Everything that happened with Otis and Shane…I don't feel right taking those."

Daryl's only response was, "Didn't even read the damned label." And then he was tossing it in my lap again.

My eyebrows scrunched together as I set my finished plate aside. This time, I looked at the label on the bottle.

_Dixon, Merle_

_Doxycycline_

Understanding dawned on me. "And…T-Dog has the antibiotics Shane and Otis found," I said, realizing how obvious it was.

He nodded. "Traded the bottles. 'Sides, he was happy to be rid of somethin' with my brother's name on it." He scoffed lightly at me. "Think I'd give you pills brought in by a murderer?"

I honestly didn't what to say to that, other than to give him a grateful smile as I opened the bottle for my next dose. Giving me pills brought in by Shane? Daryl was too observant and detail-oriented to do that. I should've known better. Somehow, a simple 'thank you' didn't seem to cover it.

"I should probably go and do some huntin'," Daryl muttered.

"It's up to you," I said as I laid down on a sleeping bag. "Seems like we have a decent amount of food right now. And it's getting late, so…"

Daryl simply hummed in response. He was fidgeting with a bolt, turning it over in his hands or scratching it over his nails. He didn't look like he was at all motivated to move. I hid my smile. Daryl and I shared the same nasty habit of constantly feeling like we had to contribute, like we had to be doing something. It was nice to see him taking a moment to do nothing.

As the sun was setting, we heard the group gathering around the fire for dinner. There was a rap on the tent. Daryl opened the flap.

"Hey," Carol asked in her ever gentle voice. "Dinner's ready."

"Already ate," Daryl grunted.

Carol nodded. "You doin' okay, Layla?"

"I'll survive," I said. "Thank you for the cookies."

She nodded with a kind smile. "You need anything else, just let me know."

I grinned tightly. She left to go back to the fire. I laid back down, and turned until I was laying on my uninjured side.

It wasn't…normal for Carol to act like this, especially around me. During my first go-round, we never saw eye to eye when it came to our morals. We worked together well enough, but we always kept a respectful distance from each other when possible. This time around, I was dealing with a Carol who was infallibly genuine and pleasant. It still gave me whiplash every time she spoke. It wasn't that I hated how she currently was, but it just didn't instinctually make sense to me.

Thoughts of Carol segued to the barn, how Sophia was supposed to be in there, but isn't now. Not to mention who was going to be the one to open that barn…

My cheek rasped against the floor of the tent as I shook my head. I needed to at least inspect the barn, make sure it was safe for the time being.

Daryl standing up interrupted my thoughts. He walked over to me. "It's gettin' late. Take the cot," he said, waving his hand towards it. "I'll take the floor."

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of an idea that I had started, but now realize it might not work. I deleted the story from the website, but have it saved on my computer should I choose to try again with it in the future. This story is, technically, its own idea, not a sequel or prequel to anything. Yet? Who knows. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
>  **Warnings that will follow throughout story:** PTSD, issues with touch, swearing, canon-typical violence, mentions of rape, some character deaths that will be mostly canon-typical.
> 
>  **Note:** Eventual romance between Daryl and my OC. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.


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